Perfect, clean skin
Destroyed by the edge of a knife
And the addiction to the blood
Dripping, running, escaping with all the pain.
The temptation, every time a release was needed.
A release from all the pain, the anger, the sadness, the hurt.
A promise, broken by him and kept by her.
The temptation to watch her skin split open,
To watch the blood stain her arm,
Flowing like a river.
The same question every day,
“Is it worth it?”
Worth it to keep the promise if it had already been broken?
It was already broken, so only one she decided.
But, one turned to two, two to three, and three to five.
Straight down, no hesitation, no way to be stitched up.
So, when he found her lying on the bathroom floor,
Her crimson life pooling around her, matting her hair,
And a note stained red.
He picked it up carefully and read,
“I’m sorry. I broke the promise too. I’m sorry it went this far and you had to find me like this. If they can’t save me, if you didn’t find me in time, I want you to know this is the only promise to you I’ve broken. I’ll love you forever and always, no matter what, and I’m sorry. I love you.”
He dropped the paper with shaking hands
He screamed at her to wake up, though he knew it was too late.
Gathering her in his lap, he held her in his arms for the last time, his tears mixing with her blood.
Burying his head in her hair, he whispered,
“I’m so sorry. I know I did this to you. Please come back to me baby. I need you. I love you.”
And his blood mixed with hers as he lay, dying,
Next to the only love he’d ever known
And the only one he wanted for the rest of his life.