Cascading Crimson Wrists Poem by Crimson Love

Razor's climb to meet such nectar,
the liquid of love, beseeched from Crimson wrists,
Left upon unwritten words are the written,
A choice left within,
Makes its way to the surface,
released as this blade climbs,
comes the cascade I call love,
These waterfalls fall red,
Crimson streaks down the heated skin I mutilate,
I bow before this seductive mess,
and give the only love I know...
The humble drips Through wrists of Crimson's flow.