Death’s Bruise

I have smashed my fingers in car doors

     and sliced my arms with paper.

Nothing,

     nothing,

          nothing

               will ever hurt worse.

That feeling,

     that awful feeling,

          will haunt me until I can find

               something that cuts deeper,

                    something that hits harder,

                         something that aches longer. 

I miss her every day.

     Did you hear that?

I miss her every where.

     Do you understand that?

I can't catch my breath,

     or see straight,

          or think clear.

Nothing is okay,

     do not lie to me.

Nothing

is 

okay.