Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2014
Blood is blue,
As it runs through your veins.

Until it reaches air,
And forms a change.

To a red,
That knows no bounds,
As it flows,
From the wound and down.

So when you hear,
That red means love,
Shouldn’t they say blue?

Once love has broken,
The heart that you grew,
Wouldn’t the blood be blue?
Matthew Miklavcic
Written by
Matthew Miklavcic  CIncinnati, Ohio
(CIncinnati, Ohio)   
337
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems