There is a crimson heart, fragile, rapt

in ribbons of warm velvet devotion; 

it pumps and flows,

this vessel of rich red darkness, 

steeped by experience and translucent scars

etched and carved by the throes of life.

There is a red hot anger that spatters and soaks you – 

but for a moment –

then runs smooth and deep

scarlet as it soothes and cloaks you

and keeps you warm.

There is a woman, your crazy love

with the breakable heart;

listen to her


the bleeding