Scalpel

I cup your left breast with my hand,
lift it, so that I may unseal your skin underneath;
as I venture through folds of secrecy,
I know, you are a small frightened thing–I see
your heart lies cradled, slumbers within
the bloody tapestry, a undeniable sophistication
that justifies all things–a voice
that convinces you
that you will not bleed
even as you cut into yourself
even as you scream
and that this organic fabric of red
is but a velvet dream

get away from that body

with this scalpel I exorcise you
I command you to leave
she is no longer yours
no longer your victim,
no longer your plaything

get away from that body

with this scalpel I undo you
I command you to cease
she is no longer yours
no longer your addiction
no longer a distant dream

she is mine now
she is ours
we are she
we despise you, resent you,
curse you, expel you
we are no longer yours
we are but ours, but mine

I command you to die

for I am my own thing,
I am my own person
I am mine
and mine alone

I am me

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