Most like to wipes it, is on some thing,
other than it's selve, sore thigh your yet
Instead it, is
it's blood upon you float, not touching.
It's stain is it, upon the air, around it.
When you, it's color changes, it
is, it's robes, gold then melts the heart
of quicksilver, this river to sun is run,
when tips of lead it knew, has Bloom's.
Is It Poetry
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/when-love-lies-bleeding/
