The speaker is describing damage that can't be undone, and insisting on it. Bruises and broken teeth suggest physical harm, though the poem never says who caused it or what happened. The repeated phrases "not blue nor green but purple" and "not healed nor fixed but broken" read like someone correcting a listener who keeps softening the truth. Purple is the colour of a fresh, deep bruise, not one that is fading.
The shift between the two halves is the heart of the poem. At first the speaker asks, "must I repeat, must I explain," sounding tired and defensive. By the end it becomes "I will not repeat" and "I can not explain," a flat refusal. The line about touch and sight suggests that touch caused the harm and sight lost something, though the poem leaves the details open.
The mood is raw and weary, with anger underneath. The final line settles on something heavy: the touch will never leave, and the sights will stay forever.