A poem I’m working on, don’t hate it but it’s not exactly what I’m trying to get at. Would appreciate some feedback

A tiny blob
A teardrop
I held delicately
In my hand

It was mine
I know from
whence it came
whose name

I said, in pain
as I cried
and cried
all night.

A tiny bead
of sweat followed
A tiny drop
of blood trickled

Like rivers at source
that first ran flat and still
like rapids soon roared,
as whitewaters flowed

raged and gushed
couldn’t contain
till emptied and the
last drop ran dry

While the sirens
from distant roads
raced to save
my bleeding heart

I saw your picture
I saw your smile
for the very last time, and
then I closed my eyes.

/r/poetry_critics Thread