a poem by Micah Ballard

BLED WHITE

Quick
to rage with them
these worlds, their war
tears on the canvas.
Half our lives
torn together.
Quick to rage without them
to rage within their empty spaces
to hold each battle inside
blood on the walls
I take from their mouths.
We initiate one another
I am in front. In the night
They are in front when
we sit down to bleed
We face one another in the dark.