Tuesday, June 8, 2010


I sit in the dark,
in the very near dark,
one lone candle burning.
The cold blade sits in my hand,
mocking- too chickenshit to
actually do anything- my
body aches. I look at the
dancing candle flame, then
back at the glint of metal
in my plam. The dull ache
in my head becomes sharper,
stronger. The metal feels
good against my warm
arm. A rustle- I look up,
and you are there. The tears
begin, but I cannot stop
them, or brush them away.
You sit, silently, and bury
your face in my hair. The
blade is taken from my
fingers, and I am pulled
against your heartbeat.
Arms envelope me, the
tears stop, and I sleep.

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