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Poem

The first week without you is an eternal bee sting
Too much pain to talk
Paralyzed from the waist down
Confined to a lonely bed
The pain lessens up like the rain
But the swelling remains
As big as a bowling ball, on each hand and kneecap
Forcing me to crawl around like a deranged animal
Only winning me pity
The swelling reduces after a month or so
But ugly pink scars remain
When triggered, blood pours from the scars 
Stains my sheets as I sleep alone 
Years pass and the ugly scars begin to heal
But not completely 
Decades later I wake at midnight screaming
Perplexed at the puddle of red surrounding me
Why do I still bleed as if the wound was just made?
I lay on my deathbed after centuries of agony
My scars have faded, many more have been added
A quilt of despair, a skin of sadness
The memories of you return once more
The tears fall, the earth shakes
And at last I rest

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