I will break all my limbs
to have her mold me
as a clay sculpture

To carve her knife
into my skin because
this is how art is made

To have her look at me,
study me, conceal my flaws,
till I am finally perfect

To be owned by her,
her creation to
admire and love

the same we all are,
underneath the shallow surface
this knife will ****,
anything with a purpose.

I asked you if you would stay with me,
And you said "maybe,"
Before taking out a silver knife.
With a smile, you plunged it into my chest,
And I smiled back.

I continued to smile
When we would walk together.
We watched the people stopping to stare,
As more and more of them would inquire.
I would gladly show off the craftsmanship,
Such as the way the engravings in the handle
Would wind round and round like a supple vine.

Finally the last day came.
I knew it would, but I expected it sooner.
You politely pulled out the knife
And waved your goodbyes.
I waved back,
Happy that I could finally dispose of my corpse.

I like to play with knives
It makes me feel alive
The danger of their sting
Why should I survive?

The knife begins to dance
My skin it wants to glance
The blood it wants to bring
Drifting into trance

The knife comes to a close
Its ballet now has froze
It's handle I will cling
And bleeding canvas grows

But knives will lose their touch
And thus I leave it’s clutch
And now my heart doth sing
For you do just as much

Don't wait around
stuck in this pit
hoping one day
your flame will be relit

It's not going to happen
so get on with your life
because love is painful
and it cuts like a knife