My Frayed Sleeve

For two decades
your salt-paste lies piled up
like pancakes on a cracked plate,
while you hammered at my heart,
delighting in the blood
which seeped
scarlet
through my frayed sleeve.
Even if you’d believed
I would leave,
you would not
have been kinder to me.

I scribed you into history
long before
you ceased breathing.
Each shred of regret morphed into relief,
so there’s nothing to grieve –
leaving only a thin breeze of pity.

.

©Jane Paterson Basil

32 thoughts on “My Frayed Sleeve

    1. He died in January sometime. I don’t think about him, but the daily prompt; “Sleeve” reminded me of how, when we first met, I wore my heart on my sleeve, making it easy for him to hurt me.
      I’ll dredge anything up for the sake of a poem 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

        1. That’s what my daughter said to me this evening when I was ranting. Something has happened over the past couple of days which has brought it all back. Maybe I should try to clear it with a poem…

          Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you. The last stanza was tricky – I didn’t want to sound harsh. Folks get offended when you shrug your shoulders at death, but sometimes there’s nothing left to feel.

      Like

Thank you for dropping by. If you have any thoughts, questions, treats or cures, you're welcome to drop them in the comment box.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.