I wield this pen like an extension of my arm
The scalpel I use to carve your memory from my past
Erasing our history with the deft strokes
Of crossed T’s and dotted I’s
That makes you fade from my literature

But the bad taste of blood still lingers on my lips
From the cuts of every sharp word we spoke
Regurgitated like spears
Hurled at each other’s hearts
Leaving our throats raw and silent in their passing

While you stabbed me with a daggered glare
From glacial orbs that watched
As I swallowed my own sword
By dipping the quill in the ink well
And setting fire to your enemy encampments

When we two enemies had burned to the ground
The smoke and ash that remained
Was blown away like the sands of time
Until nothing remained but the scalpel
Gripped firmly in the bones of the hand