Bloody Nose Romance

When I close my eyes, I visualize

my soul bleed from my nose and drip

onto your family portraits.

 

I lick it off and taste metal and

emptiness like the barrel of a cocked pistol.

 

When I open them, you're

still standing there with your pants

around your ankles and

 

that look on your face, whispering

"you're missing something that makes a human."

 

I smile and point to your bloody family photos and

tell you I know I am.

Do you want a taste?