Memory Fragments: Probity

Taste The Blood Outside My Heart

How would I know how people's truest nature is if I can't know their heart's blood?
How it flows, how it coagulates; any and all manners of palpitations that come from it
How can I distinguish bad blood between my subjects, or the motives of the blueblood?
If I am to answer these questions, first I need to know how mine tastes; the counterfeit

Have you tasted blood before? Depending on the species, it can vary its flavor quite a bit
All I have read about it, what the doctors have told me. All in all, I like the diversity in them
What if I split open my own heart, and you taste the droplets of blood that it will emit?
Please, have some. Virgin blood it is said to cure madness and disease at the lick of a thumb

I don't think that it will kill me. Nor it will drive my insane or afflict me with terminal illness
I'm not talking about it literally, dummy. The heart bleeds in more than just the physical way
Still, I prefer drying out my veins than to be subjected to a blood bath in complete stillness
Let the red waters flow. Image an ocean where its waves have begun, this bathtub, to sway

Imagine flowing through your own body and experiencing where blood takes part of
Aiding, sending and receiving, expelling and purging out; all of that, and without rest
But I wonder. If one's blood is so good, can it be given to others via a transfusion thereof?
Will it mix well? Will the pain and struggles transfer over from guest to guest?

If so, then I don't to give my blood to anyone. No one should taste my life
And yet, here I am offering it to you. Why is that? Does your other half need it?
He bled much for you. You did not rust away. You even became his wife
I thank him for that. My loving jester and vanguard's quirky and funny personality split

Still. Why do I feel the need to bleed for you? I want you to taste my heart's blood
You know me better than anyone. And yet, I want you to. I want you to taste it directly
Please, come right to me. Let me open my legs, and let you sit against my thud, thud, thud
Metal may be cold, but the warmth I feel from you is enough. Even if it is given indirectly

What do you feel? Besides temperature or physical contact, how does it feel?
Do you feel my anger? Do you hear the drums of war beating? My love and hatred?
My heart is a furnace right now. Its blood boils just enough to melt any kind of steel
But I don't want to let you go. Leg-locked as you are, let me taste a heart's most sacred

Let me taste the blood outside your heart. Rip open your chest, and extend my tongue
You know me, but I have only read and heard about you. Let me know you, please
Oil it may be, blood goes from red to black anyway. So, let me taste it while it's still young
Quickly! Before my tears mix in and ruin the flavor of your true self with ease 

...Please. Don't let me cry. Not here. Not in front of you. I don't want to let go
Embrace me with your arms and pull my head down to your chest
Don't let the tears drop down, but instead, let them in an upside flow
I don't want you to see me cry. Don't taste my tears instead of the blood to ingest

Now. Let us taste the blood from outside our hearts. To truly know, and to only be
Sight of tears marks a liar at heart. I don't want to lie to you. So taste my truest heart
Drop by drop, lies and truths mix with time's flow. The rippling sounds for us to see
The clouds in my eyes impede my vision. What rain to see: the red storm to tear us apart