Vampire

I don’t know that I will ever

walk into a beige-colored

bathroom

without blinking away

the red flashes on the ceramic tile,if I will ever

brush my fingers over their smooth surface

without feeling them

slicken

in blood.

I got the stains out

of the purple silk—

there were only two, and small—

tiny dots that faded to brown,

like chocolate.

And I wore it for him.

And if you knew this, you

would bleed again

and I would kiss the wounds,

taste the coppery tang

of my lover’s blood

on my tongue—

your red-headed little

vampire.

He bleeds too—

this one,

but he leaves no stains,

and the wounds

aren’t so easy to kiss away.

When I search,

My mouth can’t taste

his blood.

Only tears

and skin.