I wanted to bleed all over his hands
Touch my red paint
Textures that would make him faint,
and realise the loss
Wasting time of memories,
we could define,
and I could keep as mine
In the throw of things,
memories do not require big things,
just a little time
You took that,
so you can hold the shot,
and memories without pots
You knew my red paint was not glue
but you used it the same,
to block my vein
So I could remain the same,
bleeding in pain
An anticoagulant used
Decrease the ability to clot
So why I can't I bleed,
into your hands,
and fill your ***

© 2022 Carol Natasha Diviney