33.

If I get blood on you,
then I am sorry.
I never meant to stain your dress
(but I can't help it)
My bones are fractured, limp
and I walk slowly.
But part of me now holds out hope
that you can mend me.
I'd like for you to hold my hair, my hands,
and braid them gently.
Even though they're wet with vomit, slick,
and dripping on you.
You are a lovely girl
with arms of silver,
And life has not yet done with you the things
it has with me, dear.
I see the way you look at me.
I think I scare you.
You see the exposed sinew in my wounds
and stagger backwards,
And I must say, I cannot blame you, but
I wish you'd stay here.
For though my heart is broken already,
I'd like to offer you the rest of me.