Bleeding Is What Hearts Are For

My love should taste as sweet as the wine I drink.
Yet, blue is my heart that bleeds the darkest ink.
And from my weeping veins my soul would weave,
Another tale that never will be.
Even though to her and her alone my heart is bound,
For in her heart of bluest blue, sweet love I found.
And in her veins of redest red,
There flows no greater love than can be read.
But this you know her blue heart ’tis always my staid,
And our love shall endure until completely bled.