Blood From A Stone

That stone cold heart

you hold tight to your chest;

You believe it's clad in iron

heavy and motionless.

So it keeps you weighed down

and you're fearful you might drown,

Should you ever let a

fluid ounce of emotion spill out.

In order to move and carry that granite lump with you,

You drag it behind,

Keeping it out of sight and out of mind.

That way it remains impenetrable.

But what you don't understand

Is that your steel heart

bleeds where you stand,

trickles across the floor,

seeping into my pores,

staining my clothes,

slowly soaking my bones.

And the iron in the blood

it somehow fills me with love,

breathes something into me.

Yet, I pretend not to see

as your boulder bleeds onto me,

I choose to ignore

the gratuitous gore

whilst you repeatedly groan,

"You can't draw blood from a stone."