It’s gone, but I can still see the marks
it left on my life.
At night
After some tossing and turning
I will lay my right arm above my head
because that is where the PICC was
and this was the only position
that eased the discomfort.
When I brush my hair out
I look down
to see the amount of strands in the brush.
I have to remind myself:
This many strands is normal to lose.
I will find small bruises on my stomach
and know they are from a dog.
But a memory flashes
for only a moment,
of laying in a hospital bed,
covered in small, unexplained bruises.
-
Author:
M.E.M. (
Offline) - Published: February 18th, 2026 14:01
- Comment from author about the poem: Created: 2/3/26 | Edited & Finalized: 2/18/26. Comments Welcome.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 3
Offline)
Comments1
The injury unexplained whether an actual dog or a beast of another type injuries carry memories and if not one is blessed. Best to you. This is raw and hard to read. Dark but with light for there is life
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