Questions Of Love

Catapult my heart
against an easel
and let’s see if
we can call it art.
Is there a difference
in the lingering sweet
smell of my
perfume as I kiss
your cheek
and the thick sweet
scent of the mist of
blood as a bullet
tears through my skull?
Would you ignore
my groans of discomfort
as a poison races
through my veins
the way you ignore
my quietly said
I love you-s?
Would you turn away
from the blood
dripping from the blade
through my wrist
the way you turn away
from my silent tears
of pain?