Blood drips down

You don't know my birth date

I'm used to that in the sense that I have always known

known that my date of birth

has not been important enough for you to remember.

You continue to hurt me,

or maybe it's just as proper to say

I continue to allow you to hurt me.

I bite my tongue so hard that the warm blood

the blood drips down my neck.

I wipe it away with my shaking hands

only to be sure that you don't see my open wounds.

I will continue to be me.

I will continue to be kind

even to you

who maybe see's that word as a sign of weakness

Or maybe we are just kind to different people you and I

or in different ways.

I will swallow my blood and hold onto the taste

for in a few days

when you have gone back to your own shelter

well it will be then that I
once again
taste the salt of my tears.