trickles of red,
carving their way along my hand,
down my finger she falls...

wine. tracing a path to nowhere,
aimlessly, darts left
around the bone.
i can make it dance.
left..then right, up and down the ridges.

stretch. A line...my wrist next,
to be bound in scarlet,
branded.
twist,
turn.

splash. which hit first?
the tear, or the drop? we'll never know -
i'll never learn how to play with your blood.