i run you through my fingers,
waiting for my response.
your surface smooth as water,
your blade sharp as ice.
your blue tint reflecting my sadness,
your cracks revealing my anger.
still waiting for my answer,
i place you down admiring your beauty.
little shard of glass,
nothing else can cut so smoothly.
i think about it,
can i be that strong
as to not rip you through my skin,
and watch the validation seep out?
watch your red army attack my clothes,
staining the white the deepest crimson?
i think i'm done deciding,
what will i do- only time will tell.
you once were so innocent
though now stained with red.
i took your life from you
like you itch to take mine from me.
- credit to Sylvia Plath for the red army reference
-- see 'Cut'
