Bruise

Six years ago I developed a shake in my hands

As they carried the weight of a love I was too young to understand

But had convinced myself I couldn't live without

Now the only reminders I have of a life I no longer miss

Are my terrible cursive, and problems holding my cutlery

Right when I sit at the table on family occasions

I know my mother still worries from time to time

I guess after so long she's learning to realise

More often than not when I'm silent it means that I'm already sorry

For not speaking up, for not using my voice to talk about what I've been going through

And that's why I'm scared of you

Because even before I had chance to explain

You were tending to my wounds and soothing my aches

I never thought I'd feel comfort again

And I know what this is because my hands have stopped shaking

I hesitate to call it by name just in case that it gets taken away again

I know that it's love, but what if I'm not enough?

Because regardless of how soft the touch I still bruise

And I break when I when I think about how it must look to you

As I tremble and shake in the bed that we've only just started to make