Black and Blue

Black and blue.

These are the colours and cost of my pride.

I cannot claim beauty or grace,

my pride is a fearful thing, hard-won and hard-faced.

I wear your shame -

Black and blue.

Blue like the night sky,

black like the small spaces where I hide.

Tucked away, sharpening my edges,

grinding away the greens and yellows.

Buffing out the pinks and purples.

Until all that is left are black and blue.

My pride is a wrathful thing -

I hold it like a shield.

It is black and blue and bloody,

and it smells of roses.

Behind it, I hold all the soft things -

all the pretty things in rainbow shades and fluffy feels.

All the rounded edges I never got to wear.

My pride is weary,

and still black and blue.

And when I touch it gently it no longer moves.