Will, please will you try to understand the things you did to me?

Embracing your body, my hands quickly make slits,
where they touch bloody holes- the incision's intent
to bleed out your blackened soul.

Will... will, when I embrace in my unsold arms,
have you cough only to find my blade pressed upon your flesh?
The wounded metal ripping through your clothes.

When, I take hold of you in my arms- will you lay upon me your last breath,

realizing I sliced open your back?

On my shoulder your failing body grows heavy but I won't let you fall.


And the irony- it's funny.
You'll grope about for a support, a friendly hold
only to find the knife entrenched between my shoulder blades.

With newly heightened senses, from the closing in cold- here's what
your fingers running across the blade's handle told, "I love you,
and forever more..."

Upon the death of both bodies there will be a marriage of the two souls.
 
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