Blood.
You stand, stoic.
Face painting nothing on a beautiful canvas.
Stain; I blur colors on your face.
Dreams forgotten, hearts broken, countless nameless midnights.
Face creases, lips never curling, only a great nothing.
Dreaming  
Does blood shift in the muscles behind your face?
 
Sculptures.
You were David.
Long, lithe, and forceful frame.
Big hands built sturdily. Hands meant to carry the weight of the world.
I could never grasp what little you left me.
The tighter I gripped, the quicker it vanished.
I scarcely noticed my hand bleeding from the digging of nails.
 
Flowers.
Your dance eternal.
Soft, full of laughter, unbridled jubilation.
Scent of sunflowers, wafting through warm summer breezes.
Flowers I grew, trampled as you frisked, unrestrained.
Cheshire grin gifted to me, I give a grimace
Stooping, I pick at the yellow petals as you continue.
Or maybe I picked at my skin, loathing myself as I drew more blood.
 
Singing.
You sing hauntingly.
Lightly, a whisper, airy, almost inaudible.
Belt, louder than me, unable to listen to my own heart as it beats louder.
I always tried to match your voice. At the start of the first key.
If I couldn’t match your physical prowess, your beauty.
I could dream of singing like you. With a voice of honey, slow and sweet.
Your voice was lined with blood, it flooded my head with hopes then quickly dashed out.
 
Cold.
I’m freezing, slowly.
Blood vessels burst, my heart flickers, in all-consuming flames.
Burn hotter and hotter, a bright ball of hydrogen gas,
Imprisoned in a cold, dead vacuum that captured our dreams.
Yearning to scream, cry out in horror and agony; my skin turns cerulean.
Pain vanishes. Numbness approaches. Slipping into a dark sleep.
Dreams don’t dare approach as my blood slows to a crawl. 
 
Heartbeats.
You fabricate rhythm.
A sound long forgotten by me.
Thump. Faster or slower, never ceasing to hammer.
It works, constant. Not one break, always business.
Laughable how a muscle like that holds our life by a thread.
Hearts do reach a final beat. They stop, failing us. Like you failed me.
I can forget as the bad blood stops rushing finally.
 
No more blood.