Question

Bruises Don’t Need Names


Bruises arrive without asking,
small eclipses beneath the skin,
places where light forgot how to land.
They don’t scream
they sink.
They are fingerprints of moments
that refused to pass cleanly,
memories pressed too hard into the body
until the body agreed to remember.
Purple like regret.
Blue like something held too long.
A bruise is a secret that leaks color,
a confession the skin makes
when the mouth stays loyal to silence.
It swells with history,
counts time in tenderness and ache,
keeps score when the world pretends
nothing happened.
There is something cruel
about how beautiful they can look
inked like galaxies,
painted like dying flowers
as if pain borrowed art
to justify its stay.
They change slowly,
dark to green to yellow,
as though healing is just decay
wearing a kinder mask.
People say, it’s fading,
but fading is not forgetting.
It’s learning how to carry less weight
without dropping the truth.
Bruises teach the body patience,
teach it that survival
is not the absence of damage
but the refusal to keep it forever.
Even the deepest ones loosen,
even the darkest stains
learn how to leave.
And when they’re gone,
they don’t vanish
they settle somewhere quieter,
proof that pain passed through
and did not stay in charge.

Answer 1

10/10 you should do another

Answer 2

11/10 good job and yes u should do another one