Poets logo

Crimson

The blood I shed

By Anika CraneyPublished 5 years ago 2 min read

Crimson

Blue, from above

But dark from below

Not what I expected In The tropics

A shadow

Silver skinned

Gold eyed

Sharp

He turned me inside out

Eyes like darts

Piercing through me

Chosen

Mistake

Too late

Bones dented

But not broken

Crushing but not pain

Urgency ignited

Vision tunneled

Mission made

There’s no other way

Get yourself to safety

Loud and quiet all once

Slow motion

Sound blurred

Surging

Beautiful life pouring out

And became whole

With the ocean

Crimson cloud engulfed me

And followed me all the way to gold sand

Safety

The red flows

From the safety of skin

Pouring from my veins

Rushing to meet the day

I feel it leave me

Warmly

Dripping

Down my thigh

Soaking my skin and the sand beneath me

Pleasantly weakening

Eyes rolling

Blue turns white

Focus

Breathe

Stay

Don’t slip under lids

My skin pales under a warm sky

The tropics ...

aren’t all they cracked up to be

Chaos amidst panicked public

Screaming and running

A trained medic saves the day

Thank you kind stranger

He said this will hurt

He was right

Cut off the flow from my thigh

Better to keep what remains

Gritty and cold

Tired but awake

Whos there ?

Tears on my face

Aren’t mine

I love you too

Everything will be ok

Thank you brave woman

I fly to the white

Drenched in adrenalin

Eyes wide

Words falling from my mouth

Still loving

Still laughing

It’s too late

Everything is too late

Smiles AND tears

WHAT THEY DIDNT SEE

But felt they could judge freely

Knowing nothing of how I feel

Trying to stay present

So many faces speaking at mine

So many words lost in time

I remember her arms around me

Her hair smelt like summer flowers

Soaking up my tears

Taking all my fears

Filling me with sweet relief

In the warm hands of a mother

The kind of embrace I wish for daily

Nurturing when I needed it most

Thank you nurse melanie

Her Silver leaf reminds me

There is beauty in this world

Thank you ...

What a fucked up day

At least I’m still here

With a wet face

And a crimson scar

Laughing about it ...

performance poetry

About the Creator

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2026 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.