When did I realize
This wasn't a game anymore?

Was it the steady stream of tears?
Gathering in tiny salt lakes on my neck
Sometimes flooding over,
Sending chilling drips down my torso.

Was it the soft, velvety blood?
Trickling slowly, delicately, deliberately.
Showing me tangible pain, tangible danger
Tangible bitter sadness.

Was it the heavy, pulsing burden in my chest?
Making me top heavy
Too many beats. Too many pulses.
Each beat a miracle.

Was it your eyes?
Your cold, cold eyes
Two icebergs in your face
Disappointment in your narrow pupils.

No; I think it had to have been
The day I woke up
Looked in the mirror; sobbed;
And crumpled with longing
For the girl I used to be.