With  that one smooth stroke of the blade
He knew it was over.
The love they had shared
Was history now.

As the petals fell to the marbled floor
His knees buckled
And he knew his heart would bleed for eternity

His breath stopped,
Watching as the greatest love he ever had
Walked away
Not even glancing back.

tw self harm



My skin is decorated in scars
Adorned with marks
Of battles lost
Nights surrendered
To the blade

Each night they come to me
The thoughts
Temptations
Don’t you wanna see it again??
Don’t you wanna watch yourself bleed?
And I just...
I trace the scars along my wrist
Along my thigh
And remember the weight
Each and every line a burden
Something I have to carry
And if I have any fight left in me
I won’t make it heavier
For myself to carry tomorrow

The feeling
of a hot blade
on my wrist

How gentle is
its sharpness
How soothing is
the stinging pain

Sometimes that’s the
only way I could
remind myself; that
this body of mine,
or at least parts of it
still want to heal

The only motherly thing I knew
was the coldness of my blade;
gently washing away the
sadness of my burdened heart

The memories of raven black obsidian
Well up at the sight of my new blade.
A midnight blade, with a red groove,
Running it’s own comet like streak
Down the center of the curvature.
The handle is made of an ebony wood,
A wood as dark, if not darker than
The blade it so reliably holds together.
A thin silver band wraps the division
Between the blade and handle,
And blocks the sheath from over-sheathing.
The sheath is also made of the same
Shadowy wood as the handle,
Giving off an aura of pure functionality.

This was a weapon made purely to ****.
The air around the blade shadily undulates
Like heartbeats through crimson arteries,
Telling me it’s immense bloodlust.

tw: self harm


What a feeling
What a ******* rush
Just to hold it
To wrap my fingers around the cold handle
To know what it could do
Knowing what it has done
Adrenaline release
Anticipation
But also... comfort
It feels so nice... so right
Resting in my palm
And I know I shouldn’t...
But I kinda wanna use it...

I.
Her blade was quenched in limestone brine
Its sable haft laced with golden thread.
Atop the palace walls, she treads lightly
In her robe woven thin as cicada's wing

II.
When I saw his children past the silken screen
again-- from atop the cedar crossbeam--perhaps
I should lightly retreat but I lingered still:
until he saw silver ribbons that tied my hair
He (I had thought) unlike those lives I severed  
can live to tomorrow (but our gaze had locked!)

III.
A swing, a flash, an unfelt wound-- she moves
with Gansui's fury, and Chunjun's spirit
And softly these shattered visages laid to
a dreamless rest upon her gracious touch.