My grip tightens on every passing thought

squeezing them, waiting for meaning to pour out

only it never does

Then I’m left holding an empty husk

that I add to the growing pile

and forget about in search of another

with blood perhaps that holds what I seek

This too I will drain and use to write secrets

filling the lines of my hand

with scarlet messages 

inscribed and already fading

What have you walked away from in the past? Do you regret it?

Photo by Maan Limburg on Unsplash

2 responses to “Bloodletter”

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