This Red Ink has me thinking.
Should I feel guilty for this?
This Red Ink started me blinking.
I turn my head, this wasnt my wish.

Pushing my pen deep into the paper.
A reminiscent of the blood that dripped.
The Red Ink leaks to the back of the paper.
The memory of the blood on your lips.

I push the word "sorry" with the Red Ink.
I would be afraid to say it aloud.
I watch the fat letters start to shrink.
I wonder if you would be proud.

You broke my heart, and thats all I remember.
You took yours and left mine balking.
I thought if I would take yours and dismember,
you would stay with me, but you kept on walking.

Now my hands hold your heart and you are still empty.
Your blood makes the room smell like copper, iron, and zinc.
You are unable to love again, and that tempts me.
So I rip my heart out, in remebrance of the Red Ink.