one day i met a man who walked in with a knife.
into me, I mean.
i cried in my tub today at my parents’ house. I cry every day to be honest. My life is great. tears are a luxury too.
he tore down all the wallpaper inside me, left me hollow, organs softly pulsating.
“Now you know who you really are,” he said. Just kidding, he didn’t say that.
“You’re killing something,” I said. “You’re killing something between us”
but that’s not true. there was nothing between us. it was a skillful job. i feel my insides more clearly, more cleanly, all the blood and tender softness.
“fragile” i used to think in the anatomy lab. “We are so fragile.” but I never really thought that about myself.
but we all are.
“i’m going to leave this here for you,” he said, smiling, shrugging, dancing out of me.
Inside me is a hollow space, walls of organs aging, and inside the hollow space
is a knife, knife, knife, knife
sharp sharp sharp