It used to be that my body existed only where he touched me, leaving me bleeding in a better way. Everywhere the blade-tongue touched I found tulips growing from the lacerations, I found the bedsheets touched with rose-water.
I think the problem was always that I had too much of this blood inside of me but there was nowhere for it to go - or maybe I never had any at all. These days I seem to be leaving red stains wherever I go, like on her white dress or in the sink of some hospital's bathroom.
Is this what 'injured' means? I know about the words 'ill', 'not good enough' or 'lonely' and I've always thought they were all the same thing. But I've never bled so salty, so bitter, so thick.