I think it was a past life
I am dancing on a red and gold intricately patterned oriental rug.
Then I feel something dripping between my legs.
It’s blood and I start to cry, this is the first time.
I’m wearing a blue sari with gold embroidery on the border.
The blood is thick, with a maroon hue.
I dance over it, getting wet red streaks on the bottom of my feet.
I don’t stop dancing. I don’t stop crying.
You walk in the door and I know you will ask me to sing
you cannot see the mess I’ve made, it blends with the woolen rug.
You look into my eyes instead of my feet
now my feet are still and my brown eyes are moving.
Love moves, did you know that?
It dances, I wish you would dance with me.
I am frozen, standing there, afraid to move.
Afraid to bleed all over your life.
They say I’m too young for love
but not too young to be hurt by it.
I think I have injured myself
and that is why I am bleeding.
The golden piles on my ankles make a jingling sound
I wonder if you know how bad I am.
As we stand in front of each other
I wonder if you could ever know me
the way this blood does.