Black blood flowing

Intricate lines woven

Deep into the veins

Staining the fibres

Of pages burned

Worn and torn

Time ageing the tainted pages

Of cursive art

Journals coated in leather

Pages torn and seeping

Words escaping into the air

For someone to hear

So the pages get burned

Ablaze so bright like the fire

Of passion that drew the black blood

Coating every last page

The ink ran out

Poured out into the fire

A flame of passion and desire

Of bleeding words in tan fibres

Squashed out with the last lick of fire

And a new poem gets written

With the ash on the wooden floor