this is agony, my love. your eyes profess clarity, but your hands betray you.
you shake, the knife bounces. tick marks bubble red on my skin. moments of relief mixed with moments of pain.
but which causes the pain and which causes the relief?
the blade opens. it reveals. it scars. it holds promise.
that’s what i want. what i need.
the promise of a tomorrow.
the promise that this is the end.
it’s all so fucked up, isn’t it, my love, that i am unable to direct you properly.
your hands shake because you love me so much. it hurts you to hurt me.
but it hurts me when you don’t hurt me.
how fucked up is that?
slice.
slice.
slice.