Your Blood

April 23, 2011
It flows, yes,
softly and quietly.
A harmless melody,
of this casual drip, drip, drip,
A red puddle in the middle of the floor
like a melted popsicle,
an uneaten delicacy,
as I thought your blood was.
The scent attracts many
Me, as one.
My mouth waters
as I indulge
what I can salvage.
But the sound that my ears can hear
Stop me.
A torpid beating of a broken heart
Leaves me no choice
But to breathe the being back into you.
I cannot drink your blood.





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carrotcake1447 said...
Jun. 28, 2011 at 1:58 pm
Guess who this is! Initials: AS ^_^
 
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