I cut my fingers against your harsh corners again.

I've reopened a wound under my finger nails that will not mend.

The blood drips and tastes like honey against your thin features.

As it drips the only thing you'll see left on these are hideous creatures.

So I bite my lip against the feel of your corners, how small they are.

How could something so small have pain that goes so far?

The blood drops onto you, a canvas for me.

I just hate to have you see me bleed.

I'll tell you how you mean to me and spell out the words.

I'll write them through the pain because I don't care if it hurts.

And if the day comes where your corners slice my fingers.

I will leave the blood on you so that way my love still lingers.

My fingers will crawl into my mind and yours.

Just to make you see how you've got me on all fours.

Let me tell you about your blue lines against my own.

That cut off of red to say that this is and will always be my favorite tone.

I'll uncontrollably ruin it by the dripping blood from my hands.

It'll fall on the paper like rain that seems so bland.

But I'll make sure it's slow, because the thickness is suppose to taste like honey.

And I'll grab something less painful to write with to tell you that you are lovely.

I search and see by my side...

something I never thought would catch my eye...

A pen next to a paper.