Hemingway once said "there is nothing to writing,
all you do is sit down and bleed".
Not his exact words, but good enough for me

So here I am, and here I'll bleed
Your love was the death of me
Those sharp thorny words
pierced the very best parts of me

So Hemingway, Is this what you expect of me?
No hidden messages, just ****** crumbled papers
in place of where my heart used to be

So here I am, and here I bleed
I'll go wandering
off into the dark corners of the city
Following the tune of all the drunken laughs
I'll make it eventually, at last

So here I am, and here I'll bleed
On this chain smoking night
By the river, without you next to me
© 2013 Christina Jackson