The Men She Leaves

She leaves lovers in her wake
Bleeding on the bedroom floor
Their residue is hard to shake
And clings as she heads out the door
 
Her conscience has long since fled
Lost in the prevailing wind
Some men, she feels, are better dead
She leaves them cold, but has she sinned?
 
Lovers come and lovers go
Some leave scars etching her soul
But she moves on, and takes it slow
Each dear heart has played his role.