A drop of blood. Within a golden frame is trapped one spec of love that’s born to last, Inside these eyes there are all those scenes, the sweet remembrances of the past. Upon a slice of paper plain, is that dew after the forsaken rain, Inside the organ that plays the beat, is that pang of blissful pain. Behind the lusty glass that just might break, is the evidence of the plague, A maroon print of the spicy blood of love is all I have left, for her life’s sake. The other walls look bland and unattended, torn and ripped, so much offended, This one that gleams with a piece of love, it has her life upon it presented. The polished air with the whisper of her voice in some sparkling poise, A song that breathes and comes to life, when her heart marvels noise. The music echoes from the walls, and the frame with her drop of blood calls, My lips, they thirst for the touch of her kiss, as upon my face her finger falls. Her skin reminds me of when I used to run my fingers about my mothers pearls, Her neck is sleek, a being on its own, a gift to see when her scarf unfurls. The glistening beads that adorn her delicate face can’t find a home in a better place, Ebony black, with curious intentions, they wander away in some innocent daze. Her fingers are nimble when I hold them in my own, so long yet weak to contain my love, Her hands fall beside her small waist, as I wrap her in my helpless hug. But all this is nothing compared to the rhythm that I hear in her veins, Fast and so unlike my love, so quickly rushing like upon my collar, her blood stain. So pale and beautiful, so quiet and alive, so tense and vulnerable my precious prize, And all I want is just a drop, to frame and keep a drop of her blood that will be mine.
Well, you seemed to open with a rhyme scheme and then abandon it. I was expecting rhymes and the lack of them made me feel something's wrong and disturb the flow. Also, some rhymes seemed lost in the length of the lines. That's just my opinion though.