Every letter is red when I've written it for you
Red like my lips and my nails and the stains on my sheets
I feel like carnage and I need to tumble through it
Clawing at you as your eyes register the scene

But I only smile ingratiatingly at you
And push the pen harder to the paper
Where I will quietly slice your soul into hair fine threads
Wielding the most potent gift I have been given

It is the gift you gave me when you looked through my eyes
I have held it close and nursed it like a child
So that now I can plunge it into your chest like a dagger
And you will finally appreciate the horror of being a muse