When they say blood means
anything other than life
I say it is all that remains.
This liquid legacy haunts
arteries and veins. They say
it’s thicker but I don’t feel it.
If I could transfuse it gone
I would do it. Like how I soften
the crease in the middle of my brow.
How I still hide the shape of my chin
when I smile. Even that temper,
like a fury, which would render me
silent barely bares a hint of resemblance
when it burns wild in the pit of my belly.
There’s no bond bound here. My blood
only runs cold in remembrance of you.
Let light split wide open any darkness
remaining. When I bleed now you would
not recognise it as anything but love—
you, a stranger.
~The H Word~
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