Melani Udaeta Poet Sonnet

Bruises of Amour

Poked just once and you left a hole 
stole what was in my arsenal;

Wounded with a laceration 
now closer to no emotion;

Pincushion heart takes every prick,
the act can be so sadistic; 

A needle’s eye a gaping wound,
bitterly mauled and then consumed;

So much space to make a mess of 
thinking you fit me like a glove;

Softer than you want to admit 
the marks remain after the hit;

Each stab paints a different color  
bruises that look just like amour.

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