Drenched Desire Poem by Crimson Love

If lips whispered,
Every touch,
I'd hear the feeling,
and caress the sound.

Yet only blood,
touches me,
the small drips,
that should hold,
more than small, sweet,
beads of your hearts nectar.
Yet it Holds no, such delicate love.
But only the hateful words,
you so willingly spit.

Drenched in your passions,
no matter the hurt,
I shall always love,
every whispered word,
that's soaked past bone,
with bleeding love,
and drenched desire.