IT WAS BLOOD

It
wasn’t love she wanted, it was blood

Painted
with the word “love” on his skin

So
in the veins of their bodies pens were blood ink

Soaking
into both merged flesh like foam wool cotton.

Sheets
bed smeared with red tears it appears-a toast to a broken promise.

Anke
had passed away-her little shadow. Ceased her life when he went ahead

To
mate her neighbor’s mother and yet another another.

Twice
the tumble-he turned the neighborhood into his jungle-all prey prayed.

Now
he perches, hovering like a vulture using crutches, needing help to find love-

-broken-stolen.  Anke’s bigger shadow swollen now he seeks
solely.

She
submits in blood and oath- a tradition for revenge. And before skins combine

To
produce an ocean of liquid flood frozen, his cap was on the floor-not off his head

But
from his shroud beneath