GRIEF Poem: Our Worst Nights, by Tricia Steele

our worst nights, all
the parts and
places they
punctured ache;

I can feel
betrayal
nettle fresh
in scarred skin

their acts like
scalpel slice,
wounds glow like
newly born.

numbness seeps
reliving
slow death, fueled
by caffeine,

bleeding work
as they cut
away seams,
pulled out guts,

ate a feast
at our arms’
bounty, hands’
craft, mind’s thought;

our bodies
paid the price
for purchase
of our best nights.
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