Razors Are My FriendsMature

Trembling hands

a trembling spirit

the razor spins in between your fingers

the skin calls out

trembling and needing

you silence it with a slice

a warm slice,

a slice that afflicts the heart

you grimace in pain

not just the outer pain

but

the inner pain

a slide then you stop

Nothing

Still nothing

but then

like a miracle

that wound opens to reveal shiny rubies

liquid rubies hiding in the dark

the pain stays and stays

and stays

until you grow accustomed to it,

It is beautiful

It is a friend

Put the razor down

Put the razor away

where no one can see it

Razors are my friends.

The End

0 comments about this poem Feed