He said that he had hurt himself on a wall or that he had fallen. <br />But there was probably another reason <br />for the wounded and bandaged shoulder. <br /> <br />With a somewhat abrupt movement, <br />to bring down from a shelf some <br />photographs that he wanted to see closely, <br />the bandage was untied and a little blood ran. <br /> <br />I bandaged the shoulder again, and while bandaging it <br />I was somewhat slow; because it did not hurt, <br />and I liked to look at the blood. That <br />blood was a part of my love. <br /> <br />When he had left, I found in front of the chair, <br />a bloody rag, from the bandages, <br />a rag that looked in belonged in garbage; <br />which I brought up to my lips, <br />and which I held there for a long time -- <br />the blood of love on my lips.<br /><br />Constantine P. Cavafy<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-bandaged-shoulder/
