Carson 3: more Bad reasons for her sorrow

what is it with blood on pages?
i read her and i knew that you
had been here first,
knew i had found you,
learned a little more what
being you is like.
i found the blue lines you drew
and all the scribbles on the
sidelines of the page that left
you lingering,
smearing your blood in all directions
to cover the tracks.
i see the somethings that i brought
here in hopes that you soon would
find me worthy of your jokes in my kitchen,
hear you tell me that things,
things, they will be fine, and show
me all the reasons we fucked up here.
i see the lady with the curves
in front of me, underrated from the glass
box she lives in on the wall
and the words i'd like to prescribe her,
and i match them to the way we both look
when we paint our lips unnatural colours,
the way our dentures lose their shine,
and the way we'd better keep our mouths shut -
the way our faces look when we box them
in glass like the lady with the curves.
we were prescribed this, given names
but who draws the blood, who lives.