It's the way I avoid your sensual touch
and the things you do to make me blush.

It's the way regret eats my dwindling pride
when I keep secrets from you, my bride.

It's how I long to finally share
the way the blade's edge feels against my skin, bare.

—but when I share—

It's the hollowness of disappointment in your eyes
when I reveal the truth behind my lies.

It's the way your pupils fade to black
past the point where color comes back.

It's the horror you show when you first see
the masochistic monster I can be.