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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Poem Collection - MythOfHappiness - 16. Blood

I’ve been biting the inside of my cheek again.

The scars there were barely healed,

Only to be split open

The first time I saw you

 

It’s so soft,

And I can taste you, and blood
Copper and sunlight

Salt and sweet

 

And now I’m smiling at you

And you start -

“What happened?!”

Oh, nothing. Nothing at all.

 

“But you’re bleeding?”

And I laugh,

And wipe a little of my blood

Off the corner of your mouth

 

You’re sweet. It’s nothing.

“I… ok. Are you sure?”

I kiss you again

See, no blood.

 

Later you walk away

The day ends, you go home

You kiss me at my door because I told you too

And I don’t bleed till you’re already driving away

 

There is no pain,

That’s not what it’s for

There is only that leftover feeling

Of giddy-lust and other things

 

And the taste

Of salt and copper

To remind me

You were ever there

Copyright © 2018 MythOfHappiness; All Rights Reserved.
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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Blood is so central to each of us as a living being, and yet it's not seen. Is passion like that? 

This poems asks us to think about someone we've loved to this extent, and to ponder if we let them know in such a passionate way. Bravo. 

Edited by AC Benus
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