Blood in the pages

I found blood in the pages
of a soft-cover on the floor
poems of love, translated
from a shelf in a secondhand store

In a soft-cover on the floor
its dried rose-petal paper
from a shelf in a secondhand store
dog-eared by love’s labor

Its dried rose-petal paper
secret-seeped the words, the creases
dog-eared by love’s labor
our abandoned masterpieces

Secrets seeped in the words, the creases
in love, poems translated
our abandoned masterpieces
there’s always blood in the pages

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