Aisha Abdelfatah Poet Prose Poetry

Streams of Crimson

I stare
Emotionless
At the crimson liquid dripping down
Not a tear
Not a flinch
Nothing to indicate what I feel
If I feel

Little droplets 
Making their way down
Staining the pristine white floor
With their bright red color
Staring
A blank stare
Embracing the pain
Embracing FEELING

Putting down the blade
I stare at what I've done
Face void of emotion
Bright red streaks
Covering the tattered skin
Little streams of crimson
Flowing down
A slight burn
Where the cold metal
Cut through flesh
Assuring me
That I'm not yet gone

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