and the tip of john’s jack-knife ended up in my thigh.
it wouldn’t stop bleeding, but i’d rather eat nails than call
mama for a ride, cos she’d bitch and know we’d been high.
i said i had to go, and hoofed it home, cos i didn’t want john to see me cry,
but i had to hide those jeans and i’ve still got the scar
to remind me of the night, and the blood, and the stars.
a rhyme royal, more or less, for Grace’s mini challenge at Real Toads.
art at top “Bree and Dreamweaver Coat” by the very groovy Lisa Graham.