I was in bloody love with you once;
the kind of love that bleeds without remembering
where it cut the flesh into pieces
before stitching up the wrong wounds
when we were alone.
You were the kind who lived
for making me small - like you had to
justify why you were with me.
Bloody love. Bloody you. Bloody me.
You took as much as you could get and
I think I’m coming down.
Bloody love and bloody you: as good and as bad as each other -
I’ll take my blood and my love for myself
that it took me too long to earn
over you any day now.
It took me too long to learn.
I know better now.