Another Night of Nosebleed

I see the stain on the pillow from
another night of nosebleed.
A bruise on my shin from atrophied balance
meeting the bedpost says good morning.

Straw like hair creeps back.
Evidenced by strands littering my bedsheets,
shining silver where once they were brown.

I blame the cold dry air of winter
knowing that would impede fluidity,
improve the viscosity of my blood when
I cut myself shaving.

I quit shaving instead.
One more time.

Advertisements

About The Emotional Orphan

I am a museum of past affection. A wax museum in the sun.
This entry was posted in Poetry, UDPS and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Another Night of Nosebleed

  1. this is wonderful! an evidence of a morning after a cold winter night…

    and i like the way you end it, in a defiance of the winter, as if it didnt really matter so long the willpower is all there

    “I quit shaving instead.
    One more time.”

    xx

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s