I can't stop thinking of it
How the razor feels so cool in my hands
Fitting so perfectly between the grip of finger and thumb
How it appears from nothing
Pink
to
Bright red
Beads of blood pooling along the fine line of open flesh
The cold burn of alcohol
The soreness and sting with every step

I can't stop thinking of his blood
What if mine looked like that one day
How strangely romantic it would be
to bleed out the hurt together

I woke up craving it
He kisses me hard before I leave him behind in my dreams
It does not hurt during
Only after
perhaps these dreams are much like razors

I woke up craving to open myself up
clavicle to stomach
pour myself out over white sheets
the stains wont come out
My mom would throw them away

The place where i once felt safe
has grown teeth and a devious grin
come in my friend, while I chew you like gum
and spit you out when the sweetness has subsided