When it hurts

Sometimes when it hurts, I stop looking at the cuts
maybe the sight of too much blood has been enough

to make it hurt less, I leave the wound and walk away
this is what life has been like for a soldier on the front line

sometimes when I am calm, I think of the others
hurting, or none at all. I leave the thoughts remaining

for others to explore, like tea, like drinks
soft on your stomach, crisp on other people's tongues

tonight it is a taste of earth is in my cup,
raw dirt and a bloodied lip, maybe this is how it really feels

this is the first writing
without consequences, to feel to the core the need for another

body, to engulf, to take away
where the flesh lends its way to more cuts rubbed with saltwater

before I walk outside, into the plain midday air I realize that
it will continue to hurt, if I leave the cuts open
this is a life not for me, these wounds
made for someone else, entirely different
yet I am the one who is made to feel them.