Where does it hurt?

Once when I was a little girl I cried to my mother.
She asked where does it hurt?
And I told her everywhere.
She grasped me firmly by the shoulders and told me I needed to stop,
and I told her that I couldn't.

That sometimes when I cry it feels like I'll never stop,
That my heart just hurts and hurts and I can't stop thinking about it.

I've got bandaids on backorder,
because it tends to hurt everywhere often.

Where does it hurt?

Nobody's asked me that in a long time.
A lot of people have been telling me where it hurts,
Pointing it out on x-rays,
and pressing on bruises.

Where does it hurt?

It hurts when someone says they love me,
because it makes me think of everyone who's said that and left.

It hurts when I'm alone in my bed at night and I can't sleep and my subconscious betrays me into thinking about you. About arms wrapped around my stomach and the comforting rise and fall of your chest.

It hurts when I write,
every damn word hurts.

It hurts when I think about you with her.

I'm hurt and here you are again.

It hurts to hold onto something so tight that my knuckles go white,
I used to do that sometimes where I would dig my nails into the palm of my hand like I was holding onto something, or maybe holding back.

When I was with you it felt like everything,
and when I lost you I felt it everywhere.

I can't find enough bandaids to cover up the facts that I do love you, I do miss you, and I do wish I could see you.

But those bandaids are just as painful as the wounds beneath them,
because eventually I'll have to rip them off.

I'm exposed and so is my hurt.
It hurts everywhere.

Do you love her enough to stay?
Do you want to stay?
Where does it hurt?