Beyond a Reasonable Doubt

I found
a bruise on my right hip today.
It lends its sea foam green
and plum purple
to my web of pale stretch marks, the
unwelcome evidence of age.
I’ve learned
to love these creases in my skin,
but what I really need is
for my body to reflect its witness of you and me.
I need the outline of your hand
on my right cheek,
your fingerprints on my neck
and collarbones,
a broken nose, two black eyes.
Sometimes I wish
that you painted a deep gash of velvet red on my thigh,
or left a cut under my left breast so that
little by little I could watch myself heal
without this immobilizing fear to forget.
I need more.
Than tangled sheets at noon,
your tie hanging on my bedroom door,
your name and number saved as contact in my phone.
I need to know I am not insane,
that this bed is where you used to lay,
these lips you used to kiss,
hand you held,
ribcage you strummed your fingers along like Mozart
on a harp.
I found a bruise on my right hip today,
pressed my thumb into it until it hurt,
because I need the truth of these past days
to be recorded
in an indelible mark.