I look across the street
at the woman walking by.
Her slender form
in bright reds dressed,
a beating crimson heart
against the exsanguinated grey
of dry asphalt.
I look across the street
and dare not move.
Because my mother
raised me undeserving
of the time of someone
whom bleeds life into
an exsanguinated day.
I look across the street
and nothing more.
As my father taught me
to live unremarkable
and let all songbids
fade away from memory...
I could not walk with her.
I lay here
on ashen asphalt
and wait for the red
to bleed out of sight.
I look across the street
and exsanguinate
any hope of lasting love.
add a little bit of salt to the exsanguination
