Victim Veins Revisited

You call it love.

For years, all I wrote was bad, tragic and tearful poetry. Then life got better because I got sober and I gave up poetry. Suddenly, this poem gushed forth last year when a dear friend was having trouble with Step 1.

I see the bloody gap in your vein and hear your tears as you suffer another wound. I want to close this seeping gash…let you heal.

But no.

You pull yourself away from me. Return to the scene. You have more to give, always more.

Countless scars barely scabbed will be scraped open again.

You call it love.

Here’s the original post of Victim Veins.