Sex On A Cycle

Blood was everywhere.
Blood was on the bed sheets,
the carpet, and
on the clothes.
There was even blood on our hands, feet, and various body parts.
It is as if someone had been murdered, and the grisly crime had taken place in the room’s different parts.
Blood was even the footprints where someone’s feet goes.
Like a horror movie, blood on every nook and cranny was splattered.
And all this spillage of blood was because my love was on her period and wanted to have sex, and I decided that her menstrual cycle hadn’t mattered.

 - by the Greatest Poet Alive