The Knife

Before this I could not wax poetic,
I did my best not to feel.
Barreling down the path laid out before me.
And now here we are
This fork in the road.
Dagger in your hand.
You carved the earth beneath my feet and it will never be the same again.
Mud dripping from your blade,
As my tears become sweat, and my sweat turns to blood.
Life has picked up speed, while time stands still,
Now that I am forever altered
With only you to blame.
And I am left wondering:
Would I bear it better in my body than beneath my feet?

Synapse

I am but a passing thought
If I cross your mind at all.
But if I do
I hope you feel a rush over your heart.
And as you loose me from your mind
You wince at what you may have lost.