With surgeons precision,
you somehow carved away
the best parts of me.
No relief in sight - I felt every move
There is no recovery from hands like yours -
a chronic illness
permanent infection
plague of the heart
you're a disease
Under the guise of magic
I couldn't believe my eyes
as I stood there dumbfounded
to your dissapearing act:
"But he was...just here."
Elementary smoke and mirrors -
pulling a knife like a nickel behind my ear,
finding a new home in my gut.
No appetite, no desire.
Except for this blood-thirst for personal destruction.
I have been a proverbial queen,
a superhero to shit like this.
Still I can't save myself this time.
I have even given life
but one word from you
and the breath escapes me -
knocked to my knees by a passing sigh.
You make me feel like dying
It's beyond picking scabs,
I'm fucking with scars.
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