Infected Love Poem by Crimson Love

Do you know nothing of me?
Am I not just that of Crimson?
Am I what you would think would be flowing through that of a corpse?
Dead I am, To you and to me,
My crimson you would think would flow through these undead veins,
But this blood, is infected with love,
Drain it away through slits on my wrists,
Burn the flesh over, conceal the wound,
Let love bleed through,
I do all this just to forget you.