Running Blood

Blood runs through my fingers,
As my knuckles turn white with pain.
A picture in my hands,
The shattered glass of the frame in my skin,
The face of the one I love staring up at me.

I don't try to stop to stop the bleeding,
In fact,
I encourage it,
Take a shard of glass,
Run it down my arms,
Across my face.

Letting the blood run freely down my body,
From the cut flaps of skin which hang from my body,
I open my mouth and let the red liquid flood in,
Choking on the iron taste and loving it.

Loving it like I loved her,
Loving it like I know she will know,
She will know that I did this because of her.
Loving it because she won't be able to cry at my funeral,
Knowing it was her fault.

I scream through the blood that fills my lungs,
Not with pain or regret,
With love, and the pain that it's given me.

I take the shard in my hand again,
Hold it to my chest and let the blood flow from it,
Like ink from a pen.
I draw, first the two peaks,
Then the valley.

A heart,
Running thick with my blood,
A heart for her.

I feel light headed,
I lean against the wall for a moment,
Then try to stand again,
I fall to the white carpet.

I look up at the bloodied hand print on the wall,
My only thought,
Mum would kill me...
But someone else beat her to it.

Then my eyes close...
Slowly,
The darkness takes me.