poems from a teen

A drip of love drops from the facut

I catch it and hold it in my palm

It’s small, but it gleams like a gem

The glow fills my core with blood

Pulsing, beating, glowing, falling

The morning light shines bright still

A ripple makes my heart feel still

Another drip of love from the facut

I reach to touch it as it falls, falling

But alas, it misses my palm

The spilled love reminisces of spilled blood

My arm glistens red like a gem

Then I look at her eyes, each one a gem

My pained breathing becomes still

I take a breath and clean the blood

A drop of love forms in the facut

But I only want her hand in my palm

And so, the love drops, falling

And with the drop, I too am falling

I’m falling in an eye that gleams like a gem

I long to feel the touch of her palm

Around her, my thoughts are never still

I forget the facut

I ignore the blood

I ignore the black, rotting, uncleaned blood

For indeed it was love in which I was falling

Love that I couldn’t get from the facut

Love that was more precious than a gem

But then something made my blood run still

In her hand, was another palm

And a boy was attached to that palm

I scream as I see my own blood

My tears refused to fall still

They continued to drip, they continued falling

Mixing with my blood to create a gem

I reach for love, and find it has broken the facut

My heart was broken and now so is the facut

My tears fall and gleam like a gem

All I got from love was blood

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