It's Not Your Heart That's Full of Blood

It's not your heart
that's full of blood.
It's not a victory
that's coming up.

This isn't the caress ye be seeking
or the lips you want to kiss.

This isn't tenderness

It's something grim
and blue
ready to rain sadness
upon
poor
old
you.

You won't be smiling in the end.
You won't be crying either.

You'll just be.

It's not a victory you're approaching.
It's not your heart that's full of blood.
It's not warmth in your eyes.
That's not a smile on your lips
or a skip in your step
or the soft breeze of warm days

nor is it
a bitch of a fucking gust
or a sprained ankle coming up
or a shit eating grin
or a moronic gaze
and that's not blood
and that's not your heart

Nobody
will tell you what it is
will fight for you
will help

You're bleeding something awful

You're bleeding this poem.