She is longing,
To do it again.
To drag the razor,
Across pale skin.

To see the blood,
Stain the metal.
To feel the pain,
Make her tremble.

A pale wrist shows,
Wounds of the past.
The scars of cuts,
Of pain that lasts.

The bloody battle,
Is raging inside,
To grasp the metal,
And take a ride.

Only, she can't,
At least not yet,
Not until the sun
has completely set.

Impatient voices
Wait in anticipation,
To feel the pain,
A sense of elation.

The silver blade,
In a strait line
Is driven across flesh,
Awakening her shrine.

Ecstasy stimulates,
her brain in bliss.
Feeling the pain,
like a razorblade kiss.

©2007-2008 Stefanie Czyzyk