Whispering your name,
Blood serpenting out of me.
All wanting the same,
The heartache before.
Wasn’t like the first few stabs,
I longing some more.
We miss the old you,
The kind guy who made us cry…
Not this one to view.
Missed you when you asked,
“Is this okay to hold, too?”
For you know - of past.
Hearing your tears lined,
Dressing mixed blood of love fined.