Friday, March 18, 2011

Blood Love

They say love happens in the heart.
Does it then live in the blood
passion red, pumped in and out
in and out
Making the heart beat
sometimes skip
a beat
perhaps even
no longer hopeful
The way blood coagulates
thick with grief
before crusting over
hard with bitterness

Or does love float on the blood
an ocean of red poppies
spreading like water, over the desert
slaking the thirst of all it touches
and the desert
speechless, with its parched tongue
and love, like water, like blood
veining the cracked earth
back to life

I tell you that my heart
is tired of beating itself
against a wall
of memories
And that my blood
is the colour
of dried red roses
It flows slow
a dirge,a lament
for those lost

My pulse whimpers
a distant sobbing
And the word, ‘love’
rarely passes my lips


No comments: