Blood petals

It was a bruise
a long scar flashing across the wrist
crimson with blood
dirty with dirt and laughing with mock
The sadness on my face

wasn't due to the wound,visible
A lopsided sadness,fixed and immutable
like ridges in stone
or a lash across the wrist.
The flower petals of love wilting

under the scorch of the sun
dried and ancient,they look beautiful
slightly nostalgic,profoundly amnesic
a paint dried canvas
Almost bored with blood

I wipe the hand clean
A smude leaves a trail,reminiscent
of footprints on the shore,waiting
to be swept away
with the salty waters of the ocean

or tears,
whichever drowns me first.