Disclaimer: The style for this piece comes from one "chapter" of verse from Ellen Hopkins's novel Burned. Obviously, the characters of Maureen, Mark, and Joanne, belong to Jonathan Larson and (alas) not me.

There's a Fine, Fine Line

All glowing and optimistic about starting a new relationship,

A crucial new relationship, with terms of endearment

And sulking ex-boyfriends and blank stares that masked

Who-knew-what?

A nerve-wracking new chapter, complete with intimidating

Commitment and unforgiving old roommates,

Ineffective protests, tough expectations,

And endless possibilities.

The loft, with its blood-stained bathroom tiles,

Unanswered questions, and off-key

chords of Musetta's waltz, was the only familiar

place in the whole mix.

And there was a razor

What can I do for you?

Fresh off a love affair with adrenaline

From both performing and not eating,

Desperate for escape from crushing reality,

I whispered, "free me, please."

It winked. Take me.

I know just how to help you.

Entranced, I guided it to clean

Canvases, the forearm's

Flesh of mosaic veins and hairlessness,

And Mark and Joanne could never know.

When you finish those,

I'd be happy to make more.