salted

You’re like salt
on an old wound, Love,
A scab that I’ve been
Picking at for years.
But, Sweetheart, this
nervous habit is getting boring.
And Lately, you’ve been drawing
So much blood . . .
With every word unspoken
Every commitment disappointed
Every goodnight kiss lost
And every time I walk to my car
All alone . . .
There’s so much blood.
Is this always what it feels like
When you fall in love?
This is always what happens
When I fall in love.
Perhaps I shouldn’t
Fall in love . . .
There’s just too much
Blood.