The blood on my hands, dripping down my

fingertips from holding your heart too harshly,

*plop*

*plop*

Each drop representing a part of our love slowly

fading away into complete nothingness.

The stench of metal filling my mind with

pain and despair – the same way it did when you

first left me.

The blood on my hands, dripping down my

fingertips from killing my heart because

you simply no longer wanted it.

*plop*

*plop*

So why should I?