The blade.
It penetrates the skin.
It forms tears of blood upon my arm.
The pain.
It hurts for a second.
It stops after a while.
The blood.
It slowly runs down my arms to my finger tips.
It drips off of my hands to the paper.
A present from me to you.
A gift.
A token of my love.
This is my Bloody Valentine.

For my Love Late but who cares I love you hun