Martyr

Plunge the blade into skin, shatter the ribs, and pierce the heart.

Let the amalgamation of love and blood flow from the wound

And saturate the floor with a visceral and emotional river.

Excavate the wretched sensations from my chest.

Tell me not that love is worthy of staying intact.

There is no love without hate.

There is no joy without depression.

There is satisfaction without jealousy.

And I would rather cleanse my heart of all feeling

Than to allow such destructive swine to escape.

If that means giving up love, so be it.

That's a fair trade, right?

A worthy sacrifice?

A noble forfeit?

His hand might have been on the weapon

But he was only trying to stop me from suicide.

He was trying to save me.

There is no saving me.

April 29, 2007