blood
what a lovely liquid
dripping down my skin
turning it a wonderfully rusty red
(but of course it'd be rusty for the iron)
the vermilion vernacular of blood
and the formation of a
new wound bound
by your blood
YOU ARE READING
Gypsy
Poetrya poetry collection "Gypsy souls aren't meant to stay in one place; they're meant to wander. I got tired, bored, and depressed in the place that I was at. Change was the only option. So I packed up my soul in a suitcase and left."
