Poetry

Stained.

You asked me, "how do you feel about me?" I feel gone. Dead. I see the lies  burning in your eyes. The taste is intoxicating. I secretly love the taste. It's the only thing I've ever known. I once stood by your side, holding your hand. Smiling oh so happily, looking into your eyes. They marked me. I couldn't resist the tender touch. The sweet love. The soft warm kisses. Tearing me limb by limb. You ate my heart. I seen the blood covering your lips. I had no oxygen. No breath. You offered me air. You offered me bittersweet lies. The blood was pouring. But it wasn't your blood. It was mine. It was covering you. Every inch of your body. There is a stain on your heart. My blood. The love you once gave me. It's still there. You stopped trying. Tasting the heavenly waters of me. You washed the blood off you. Burned the memories. And drowned me in the river in which my love for you flows. I woke up covered in the blood. I screamed, but no one came. I tried to wash it off. It wouldn't come off. I started chocking. The blood was in me. All over suffocating me. I was losing oxygen.

I lost you.