You bleed dark crimson. Your blood has stained my hands. They’ve whisked you away to stitch the gaping hole in your side, but they leave mine to bleed. As always, in your life, I am left standing and waiting. I am left with just the crimson trace of your heart in my hands. Blood is caked under my fingernails, and rust-colored blood has dried on the bottom of the silver band I wear, which is just another cruel joke that for me has never been funny. They don’t know that if I co