Its the stitches you left the twining  and realigning of thread.
A scissor sliced through, and now my heart is into two.
The days I wasted, being your puppet, and you being the ventriloquist.
I quit. Do not pull my strings, do not leave me be, unless you plan to re assemble me.
For I am the broken puppet.

It was the cuts on my hands,
that trailed down my wrist.
The cuts singing a song of pain and un-happiness.
It was the cruel careless tone in your words that portrayed and arrayed.
It was you who killed me, and tossed me away.
She's a cold heartless killer.

Her movement,
The movement of flames flickering in the slow distilled wind,
wind that is now raging in to a storm.
I will help her subside,
subside into me blindly.
Giving into my allurement and gaze,
I will have you soon, the structure of skin I lust after.
I will have you with satisfaction.
My  heart is in my mouth, against my teeth,
Breaking my precious white pearls and making them into disease.
Disease that has grown in me like a fungus.
The disease of lust.
Lusting after her structure.