Jun 04

a kind of love

our love is buried deep in things that
dont ever die.
a kind of forever without an
end in sight
(or in mind)

our love is cardiovascular.
between flesh and blood,
and beneath bone you dwell.
if i bleed enough, i can feel you,
i can see you in the crimson pool
at my feet.

i am stained with bloody fingerprints
smudged intimacy,
and god, i don't want to wash them off.
i don't think i can.

i am scoring your words into my
flesh, messy letters gouged into
superficial skin.
i am tearing muscle from bone trying
to seize the parts of you that
i hid within myself.

i am clawing caverns into my chest
and reaching my hands inside,
sometimes i scream your name just to
hear it echo inside of me.
i am searching for you between
the beats of my heart.
cracks in the cardiac foundation of my being.

now rivers of blood are pouring out of my chest.
i have ripped myself apart to find you
but beneath it all, i only found blood.

it is a pleasure to bleed when my blood
reminds me of you.
at least when i am bleeding i can feel you
running over my skin,
trickles of blood remind me of your delicate touch.
i rip apart my own flesh simply to
feel you again, to feel something again.

now i stand here, pale and empty
but i stare down at my feet and at
my skin stained red and