One cuts, two cuts, three cuts, four
You don't know what to do anymore.
Five cuts, six cuts, seven cuts, eight
Stop yourself before it's too late.
Ninth cut, tenth cut, eleventh twelfth
Put the blade back on the shelf.
Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen
You don't know how much you mean.
Seventeen cuts, eighteen cuts, nineteen cuts, then twenty
You don't need anymore, you already have plenty.

I'm scarred
By the childhood I never had
By the love and care I never got
By the love that was unrequited
By the hurt I felt
By the pain in my heart
By the emptiness in my soul
By the lack of happiness
And abundance of sadness
By the blade in my hand
By you.

Kiss her.
Slowly, take your time, there’s no place you’d rather be.
Kiss her but not like you’re waiting for something else, like your hands beneath her shirt or her skirt or tangled up in her bra straps.
Nothing like that.
Kiss her like you’ve forgotten any other mouth that your mouth has ever touched.
Kiss her with a curious childish delight.
Laugh into her mouth, inhale her sighs.
Kiss her until she moans.
Kiss her with her face in your hands.
Or your hands in her hair.
Or pulling her closer at the waist.
Kiss her like you want to take her dancing.
Like you want to spin her into an open arena and watch her look at you like you’re the brightest thing she’s ever seen.
Kiss her like she’s the brightest thing you’ve ever seen.
Take your time.
Kiss her like the first and only piece of chocolate you’re ever going to taste.
Kiss her until she forgets how to count.
Kiss her stupid.
Kiss her silent.
Come away, ask her what 2+2 is and listen to her say your name in answer.

I love your eyes,
Shining like the universe in spring.
I love your kind gaze that's like the spring's sunlight.
I love your hair.
I love your smooth, silken hair that waves in the wind.
I love your lips.
I love your lips that give honey kisses
And let me hear lonely sighs.
I love your voice.
I love your high, sweet, pure voice that echoes in my heart.
I love your body.
Your slender waist which might break if I embrace it.
But what I love most is your heart.
Fragile and easily broken
But endlessly pure and beautiful.
Your soul, filled with kindness
Which never blames others and forgives all.

They say that there are a lot of ways to die;
Smoke a cigarette daily,
You will die ten years early.
Drink alcohol daily,
You will die thirty years early.
Love someone who doesn't love you back,
You will die daily.
The last option is the worst
Yet most effective
The pain is unbearable
You will not even have a choice
But to do the latter
To become numb if you suppose.