I wait
Listening helplessly, as that soundtrack of your longing and rage plays over and over again
As that knife tempts you and seduces you with possibilities and promises of quiet
The house is quiet
Each room filled with fear borne out of love
Waiting for the choice that only you can make
You slip the blade over your wrists
Its weight suddenly equivalent to the weight of your life
Equivalent to those days of sunshine and sleepiness that we shared
And that you can no longer seem to find
The blade falls to the floor
And I pray my love
That the damage that you have accomplished
Can be washed from your beautiful wrists forever
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