Blood on My Lips.

There's blood upon my lips.
I do not know if it's mine.
It tastes of iron and life
But it tastes of other things as well.

I can taste jealousy
A malicious feeling
That tastes nearly as rotten as it
Feels.

There's hatred.
Strong.
Bitter.
Nearly overwhelming.

Although these two dominate,
There are other flavors underneath.
Subtle,
Yet they still exist.

There's hope.
Bright and bubbly,
Light and fluffy,
Almost like cotton candy for the soul.

There's love,
In a tug of war with the hatred.
It tastes like memories of hearts
And passion hidden underneath the sheets.

There's blood upon my lips
And, although I'm now certain it's mine,
I know you were the one who broke my skin
And drew it.