we are fathomless, low.
the glint of a shadow on a silver blade.
the double edges almost painless in their clarity.
but it is you that has the remedy.
my cure is but an anesthetic.
the numb of morphine tingling along my bottom lip, through my veins.
my capillaries aglow but the brush of my hand along yours awakens me.
like seeing for the first time.
the moon surges.
and the crucifix hanging on a chain around my neck
digs into my skin,
the space where my adrenaline-powered heart marked
by a burn of your name,
etched into the flesh.
scar tissue like the most permanent of memories.
the time spirals away and i'm left here with
you, numb and alive.
this is but a taste of what you do to me.