A selection of 2 poems by Jaimie Innbjor

Fiction, Fresh

I Bruise Easy

I bruise easy, but I heal fast
In every way you can imagine.

It doesn’t take too much
To make the blood pool up to the surface
And leave a noticeable mark.
But in what seems to everyone else
As a blink of an eye
It’s like it was never there to begin with.

It hurts for a few days,
And before I know it,
I have new ones.
Most of them,
I don’t even know where they came from.
But I always forget about them quickly.

It takes quite a bit to make me bleed, and that always takes a bit longer to go away.
When I bleed, I bleed a lot.
It’s darkly funny to admit I used to do it to myself on purpose.

And the scars that you would think
Would stick around for a lifetime
Usually just fade into my skin.
It’s the little nicks here and there
That I didn’t expect
That end up showing years later.

When I go to parties and I drink too much
Or get a little bit too high
I decide that it’s a good idea
To kick box with everyone who will let me
And the next day the collection of bruises
Is something we laugh about.

But once in awhile
I look at my bruises, and my cuts,
And I see that there’s a lot.
Sometimes I wonder
How long it will be
Until I have none at all.
Or if I will always have a few.

I know I’ll always have a bruise somewhere
I’ve given up on attempting
To keep an even tone to my skin.

But what sticks with me are the few people, so far just the one
who sees them and says
“Woah, you’ve got to be more careful”
And when I try to kick box them
They hug me instead.


Jekyll & Hyde

Jekyll is the man
That makes me laugh more
Than I thought could possibly
Come from just one person.

Jekyll is the man
That with a whisper in my ear
Can make me melt
Into his favourite couch,
And he does.

Jekyll is the man
That holds me up talking
Even when we both know
I have to go back home
At some point.

Jekyll is the man
That can’t wait to show me
Every movie that he loves
And actually listens
When I show him
My favourite music.

Jekyll is the man
That I speak to
In borderline gibberish
Because everything we say
Is a hilarious inside joke.

I wish it were that simple.

Hyde is the monster
That sits, stares forward
And doesn’t talk
For what seems like hours.

Hyde is the monster
That after hearing I have
Low blood sugar
That I have to eat
And I’m hungry
Says “I have to save my food”

Hyde is the monster
That shows up to an event
I’ve been looking forward to
For a week
Falls asleep on the bench,
Leaves early,
And doesn’t come back.

Hyde is the monster that insults me
And picks at me
And then makes me feel weak
For not taking a joke.

Hyde is the monster
That sometimes makes me wonder
If Jekyll is really still in there
At all.

Hyde is the monster
That I see more and more
And all I want
Is Jekyll
To fight through
And come back to me.

Black tri-dot

Photo by: John Keogh from Flickr