Ink-Stained Pens

Bruises written on an un-marred page
Tear into the parchment like ink stained pens.
Tiny drops of crimson passion flood the surface,
Look at your creation, isn't it beautiful?
Black and red speckle the sun-
Deprived skin.
Blue takes its turn swirling among the blotches,
untouched flesh.
Oh, look! The red is dripping now,
Washing white across the bruises.
Lovely isn't she, staring into her marrow
As if it was meant to be exposed?
Silly girl, this is art, nothing is as it was meant to be.
When is anything ever?
Just like these
Bruises, written on an un-marred page.
You tore into the parchment like ink stained pens.
You tore into me, and I consumed you.
Silly boy, when is anything ever how you planned?