you want to stick it in me ,,

break me
                open
                         so that i leak .

it's boiling hot,
and
you wield a blade
that does not
cut skin .  

but still i bleed ,
and pick each scab .

i will **** you before you ever see me
open ,
          spread,

beg for me.

love is a knife with two blades
it is to be held by two
and both bleed
but they either both live
or one pushes it enough to **** the other

so yes there is a lot of pain in your heart
I've made my share of mistakes
but you know as much as I do
that in this law of the universe
one has to outweigh the other

and after that
my pain outweighs yours
you know that it does too
we could've been even
until you did that

darling don't you see
three years outweigh three days
specially when you know what's between
is what's true
so why'd you even try to try something new

darling, you say it was okay though
because it was over
and I can't help but think how
how can something worth 3 years
be "over" in 3 days for you

and how did you not know this
before you went out and did that
because no matter what bad I did
it wasn't enough for me to deserve that
the extra push of the knife to **** me

I'm not the type to get over it
and all you want from me is to
forget you ever did that
or to justify it one way
or some other

every conversation
every sentence
every word
I utter to you
will have traces of disloyalty

I ask love
why'd you tear the flesh off my bones ?
why'd you push the knife through my heart ?

love was silent
love was guilty
love was everything
but she was blind

People never stomach pain
True sharp symphonies of a blade
Leaving the glass half full

Killing the love
Being empty
Bones feeling shattered

Breaking point
Eyes wide open
Pounced on by life

The curtain closes
Doors lock
Drawers stocked

Incomplete to another
Seamless in the light
Begging to die

My hands tremble
Im feeling weak
The blade cuts deeper
The blood starts to seep

I hear the voices
In side my brain

Echoing all around
They are what caused the pain

My hands tremble
I pull the gun to my head
It’s almost over
Just remember what they said

I hear the voices
All around
Crying and weeping
Because my blood is on the ground

It’s all over
No pain to be found
No voices here
No-one around

My compassion is a steel blade,
so thin and sharp,
I could cut you
and you would not know.
You would bleed
and be unaware.

Blades are tools
as well as weapons.
They are the tool of healers,
and I operate with consent.

Fear of the unknown is not compassion,
so every slice is done with consciousness.

No matter how much
I wish to spare you pain,
it must be done with consciousness.