Red: The color of love

Isn't it romance,
a love note in blood?
Sweet as new roses,
just starting to bud.

Each little letter,
comes straight from my pain.
Just so the meaning,
is not lost in vain.

Blade in my right hand,
my wrist at my left.
Because my own heart,
is what you have theft.

Pain on the inside,
outside now the same.
But don't you dare worry,
for you're not to blame.

The fault is my own,
my guard was not up.
Now I am bleeding,
from this very deep cut.

It's coming so red,
the color of blood.
Good because that is,
the color of love...