No vampires, only me

This page bleeds poetry,

Drips of blood filling out

Each line as I write

Smeared because it

Won’t dry fast enough

Before a new line starts

Poetry is not supposed

To hurt this bad

Or cause so much pain

Ripping out my rib cage

To find the heart

I forgot I had
Ripping out your heart

When I can’t find my own

Drinking my own blood

Then blaming you

Desperate to keep filling out

These lines in order to

Keep on living

Hoping with the last line comes

I might find peace

Hoping that all this blood

Wasn’t spilled in vain

email to Al Sullivan