Kissing needles and licking glass shards
sharpened with words never said
is masochisms, you said.
The old cliche is repeated,
repeated, repeated, repeated
again; time heals all wounds
Stitching the openings
with pages of September,
Novembers (be it 15 or 6)
and blue moons.
But bleeding
like tears, weep for yesteryears
of words unsaid because of need
and of passions unreturned
Again. Another cliche
said once and repeated
numerous times on the air
when an Angel fell
in Love:
We bleed to remind us we're alive.