Full Moon
A pulse, your pulse,
it floats to me through
waves of light
that come from
the sky.
That horrible light
that makes you
scream and fall
to the floor. The
kind that shifts
your bones with awful
cracking noises that
resound in never
ending echoes across
the room.
And then, when you're
you again, I can see
the blades of the knives
sitting on the counter
reflected in your eyes,
and I know
that some nights
when I'm asleep,
you come down and
touch them, thinking
of what they could do
to you; what relief
they could give you.
And I stay,
because you need
to live and because
I love you.
But now that I'm
gone, who's to stop
you from plunging
the blade into your heart?
