A drip, drop
Of crimson on the floor
Delicate and slow
A pool of red
Lapping on the shores of dark boots
Splatters with steps
Essential, they call it
Call them
How essential are they, really?
How long before the paleness sets in
And they realize
How fucked they are?
Drip, drop
Crimson on the floor
This is always how it starts
Exsanguination
YOU ARE READING
Anthology
PoetryA collection of Poems and maybe short starts to fics? Mostly Poems right now.
