Blood Flow

My dear, open the curtains; the
sun is waiting to parch your crimson lips.
You turn back to me – chin drenched in blood –
well don’t worry, I can fill the cracks with salt
and soon the red will cease to flow. You tell me
what you want and it’s all that I need to hear;
I’ve hacked my arms a hundred times and my blood
is getting purer. Well perhaps you should invest
in electric cords for the things you wear at night;
we wish you were warm but the truth is getting colder.

There are days when we think you can’t do any wrong,
and we stop fighting in the hope that things will change.
But I gave up on surrender a long time ago; you grasped my
hair and I felt myself slip away. I remember the sex
in my eyes and the guilt you tore, I remember I was a
regular bore. And these days I try and paint a picture
of something pretty and secure; but I said I don’t want to
try and now I stand here broken in the light. Now my words
will sit here freezing; an epitaph to your remorse and my fucked
up head and the way you go on now.

I don’t know what you are doing here; do you think I may have
changed my mind? Well there’s a hallway that leads from
your intentions to the depths of my body; you’ve got a
funny way of showing love. I embrace the cold air and wonder
why you never show your scars. Well the tigress has stolen your
courtesy and you take what you think is yours. You’ve a funny
way of telling me that you love me, but I’ve never felt arms like
yours, so go ahead and touch me. This black and blue romance is
fading, the blood is far too deep.