Darling, my darling

Darling, my darling,

our little 'argument' from yesterday,

has left crimson scars on purple ones;

and scratching onto them to

bring out the dried platelets of a soul half alive,

brings no pain,

so let them be there.

Slowly, they'll change from

crimson to green to purple

to a blurred black epiphany

that where there is fear,

there is no love.

Darling, my darling,

I fear you so.