Trauma

Like a black thread
against the pale skin
you lie:
snaking around,
twisting and turning.

You wait
you know
a name shall be given
a relation defined
when someone asks
who be you?

You will smirk
as if to say
'now explain...
the heart, the heartbeat
the bindings, the leavings
the reasons, the beliefs'.

And I
will flounder once again.