You asked me if
I was sad on purpose

when I'm just a carving block
and your fingertips blades.

and my flesh is another
layer you could break through
so you did.

I had to find out bed sheets are really just
a veil of innocence when lifted looks
like regret.

I am a shallow grave
that you dug
knowing I could
never dig myself out.

and you asked me if
I was sad on purpose.