Some nights ago I said something V said he was going to steal for some poem he's still to write. I love the colours of bruises, how they change with time, how they always match the tone of your skin in some eerie way. (I'm sure I wouldn't think so if the bruises I've had in my life had not been the result of either clumsiness or my own stupidity.) My knee went from black and blue to purple to yellow and green. Now it looks as if someone had placed a tiny lipstick kiss to the side of my knee cap. With weird mauve-ish lipstick.
4" higher on my thigh there's a birthmark in the same shade, half the size of my palm, split in half by a blue vein shining through. Oddly, despite all the issues I've had with my body image, the birthmark is something I've always liked. It's my map of unknown territory. One road, straggly coastline.