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[justathoughtpoet]

A Bullet Dodged

They say I dodged a bullet, they’re wrong.

I stood in the bullet’s path, with arms outstretched, longing for its warm embrace.

Longing to feel its cool metal on my skin, and for it to enter my chest once more.

They say I dodged a bullet, they’re wrong.

As true as it was shot, the bullet was blown off course, or perhaps it had a change of heart.

Leaving me to recoil from its passing, praying for it to ricochet.

If I dodged the bullet or it swerved. Even if God intervened and moved it.

In missing my heart it left a bigger hole than piercing it ever could,

or so it seems.

[justathoughtpoet]

Untended

The wound reminds me of its presence with that dull pain that slowly builds whilst minding my own business.

Itching around it only seems to make me flinch and prevents me from examining the wound any further.

Has it started to heal? Has it gotten worse, begun to fester?

When the time is right, I'll inspect it. But for now, I’ll let it be, for I have other distractions.

And opening the bandage again isn’t something I want to do right now, even if to apply the much needed medicine.