Poem #4

Blood on Your Hands

There’s blood on your hands, darling,
Who did you hurt this time?
Why is it when there’s sirens
They send a shiver down your spine?
A glance at the car
As blue lights run past
Before the sirens are silent
The guilt shadow is cast:
You tremble, like a child in the dark, at lights.

There’s blood on your hands, darling,
Who is it from?
The hymens of young girls
You picked up from the prom?
A past so dark
You fade into night
You tremble still
Though there are no lights;
Why are you shaking, darling?

I fell for a felon
And the void in him
Filled the void with boys
Until his faith went dim.
I couldn’t help my fella
When my fella fell in,
Lost him to that poet boy
Who drove my man to sin.
And you had to have him,
So darling, you did!
Took the heart from his body
And with the guilt you live.

There’s blood on your hands, darling,
Is the blood fresh?
Blood from the poet boy
You loved half to death.
There’s blood on your hands, darling,
It won’t wash away with time.
There’s blood on your hands, darling,
That blood is mine.
If he knew what you did, would he love you still?
Could your lover love a man who was so
Easily driven to kill?