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FILET ME NOT
As you spoke
I could feel the blade
Separate my skin from my flesh
Like peeling a weeping orange
Hot crimson cascades down
And the icy contempt
Grating against exposed nerve endings
That scream like the wretches
Of an agonizing death.
Talk About
being cut up into little pieces. Sharp tongues make it understandable why in Medieval times tongues were cut out. It's a double edged blade - if loved, the pain is sharper, if not loved, the stain covers the heart with glad what happened to you didn't happen to me thoughts. It's human. ~Star~