And if she tears her arms apart
With wounds like serpents
Winding down
Her perfect skin
I think I'll cry.

Selfishly, like always
I shall shed tears
For the loss of beauty
For so much
That I cannot control,
And like a fool
I offer self-destructive words of comfort
And the melted skin on my arms.

And if she's prone to gloominess
Then she'll know
The guilt that wracks me
Day to night
Night to day
It haunts me in my daydreams
And plagues me when I sleep

Mute thanks
I offer for a moment of peace
And if she can share with me
A darkened room
And a silent embrace
Even in a dream
I'll hold her
Until the bleeding stops.

In truth
If she rips her arm apart
With some handy
Dependable
Penknife
I think I'll weep.
Problems
Do not ever end
And beauty
Is all we have left.