The Sangreal
Like holy bloody palmer’s kiss you cut your hand and held it out. You watched me palm the sharpened knife and watched with ever growing doubt me slice and stab and slash and cut but never draw a drop. You asked for blood, you begged for blood; “for consanguinity!” you cried. You thought the answer lay in blood. I would have given all I could, I would have bled my veins straw dry but couldn’t draw a drop. You thought I must be cheating as I hacked at all my limbs for you, I cut myself and cut myself, I would have cut myself in two, I sliced both of my heels right through but couldn’t draw a drop. You never told me once to stop, just watched me stab and slash and slice. You thought you heard the spinning wheel, the distant rolling of the dice. You thought you felt time creeping up to wring you dry of every drop. You thought that I could make it stop, you thought the answer lay in blood (Blood came easily to you) it wasn’t as you thought it was; you should have thought to ask for love, I would have given every drop. You dropped me like an empty cup. I coughed the key up far too late, it couldn’t help you now you'd gone. You would have thanked me, had you waited, but when I asked you just for faith, you couldn’t draw a drop.