She is like a knife...

My blood runs out in couplets

and stanzas of regret, pain

inflicted slowly since the

time that we met.

--

Her words tear open capillaries,

veins shatter just like glass.

It wasn't like this in the

beginning - I truly thought it

would last.

--

I don't know where her anger came

from. She hates everything I do or

say. I think she'd never speak to

me again, if she got her way.

--

I hold on so tight, I write and write

and write. I've bleed ink for her but

she's shredded sonnets I've written

for her happiness and delight.

--

She doesn't see me or feel

the words I pen, I try to show her

through my actions but it never comes

out right in the end.

--

I don't know how to let her go.

I know I probably should. I expect

she'd rather I did, I almost wish

I could.

--

For now I'll bleed from her cuts

and write poems in my blood because

my love for her is like a raging

flood.

_______________________

Thanks for reading! - Sam