Monday, August 12, 2013

The Ritual

I can feel the edge of a blade

scratching hungrily against my skin.

Naked and tender

there is nothing to protect me tonight.

It feels like the darkness

folding in on me.

There is nothing to protect me

from the attack.

It’s not as if I surrendered

my innocence.

 Gave up my rough edges

and hardened ways.

It’s more like something is taking

over from within.

Telling me that worth

will now thus be defined.

Dragging across and leaving

a fresh and dripping trail.

Watching it pool into

puddles on my floor.

Tracing lines in the stains

that are left upon my skin.

Drawing pictures with the life

that is leaving me.

The bleeding has begun

slowly at first.

But intensity grows and deepens

as does this wound.

Tearing me open

ripping apart from the inside.

Leaving nothing imagined

nothing to be presumed.

All will be exposed

and now I’m begging.

For anyone to connect the lines

between the scars.

Make the cut if you dare

but I will warn you.

This is not for the timid,

the tender or weak of heart.

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