I see a silver glint
on your wrist, the
blood merely falling
off your lips

dropping a drop,
  one, two,
falling at the floor,
   three, four,
your eyes gazing at mine,
   five, six,
-do you still hate me,
      ...even now?-

when you opened
your skin
a trail of
quicksilver ran
and I heard the sound;

  seven, eight,
your brown, golden and green eyes,
  nine, ten,
I don't feel very
real, right now


   nine, eight
you once were happy
   seven, six
could we go back in time?
    five, four,
you put the blade back down
    three, two,
I love you as much as I do now,

   one; I am still alive.