Right away, the poignancy of you mentioning the blood can express all that this person failed to write... I mean wow. There's a fragility to that, a humanity, the inability to sometimes clearly define our thoughts and pinpoint our emotions.
These were the best and most memorable/thought-provoking lines to me:
"To share a path,
is to share a death
This poem kind of reads as an enigma to me, but also, as an acknowledgement perhaps to the feeling of emptiness? That love can exist, you can write tributes to it, yet it is not enough, or it pains you and fractures your soul and you cannot make peace with it.