My memories of you
are the sweetest knife ever held
against my heart
by my traitorously compliant hand.
Going through this day
this week
this month
twisting the knife deeper
in surreptitious increments,
is the sweetest agony
to remind myself I can still feel.
To shove you deeper,
to still have you
somehow.
Though I might just **** myself doing so.
To not let go.
These memories lend me warmth
when all is cold.
But it might just be my own blood
pouring from where I cut myself
with my memories of you.