Johneta Ohler Poet Free verse

Sleeves and Tattoos

I wear my heart on my sleeve,

love too deep,

give too much of myself away.
But I wear the insults too
like tattoos etched beneath my skin,
words I never asked to keep.

I take things personally,
not because I'm fragile,
but because somewhere along the way
it was carved into my brain
that every broken thing in the room
must somehow be my fault.
So every criticism finds a home,
every rejection grows roots,
and every harsh word echoes longer
than it ever should.

I've spent years carrying
other people's anger in my pockets,
mistaking it for my own reflection.

A body covered in fingerprints
from hands that never stayed long enough
to see the bruises they left behind.

I love deeply.

But what nobody tells you
is that people who love deeply
often bleed deeply too.

And when you've spent years being told
you're the problem,
even your wounds start apologizing
for being there.

I wear my heart on my sleeve.

But the hardest thing I've ever done
 is learning that not every wound
 belongs to me.

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