Bleeding Out Poetry
I gaze down
upon the paper before me,
the ink that stains it,
still dark and wet...
like blood
pouring from an open wound.
I try to ebb the flow
of words,
thoughts,
emotions;
all revealing more of me
than I choose to expose.
Each line,
syllable,
letter
reopens the gash.
You cut out my heart
with the precision of a surgeons scalpel.
Your words,
much sharper than my own,
leaving me with no choice
but to bleed out my thoughts.
This flood of words,
this hemorrhage of emotions,
puddles in a blur
before my eyes.
More wetness now,
upon my skin,
and a single tear
drops
to blend with the ink.
Back to thoughts
