an oldie!
They will say
We loved through train windows
That we sighed through floral bedroom sheets
And I will reply that I do not understand
Your afternoon laugh
Or her jutting hipbones, raw with pleasure
Or the electricity in this September garden
(I stand watching the flowers in the wallpaper blossom:)
They will have said, then, that we drown our sorrows
in pallid walls and the sugary blues of the bruises on our thighs
and I will reply, again and again and again,
That I cannot bleed tonight
They were always unable to discern the poetry from the violence.