Love

The Knife

You love me, and I love you. In essence, we have each given each other knives, to use as we wish. Now, what will you do? Will you use it to defend me, and defend yourself against those who wish to hurt you? Or will you hold it, my love, now your knife, to my throat? Will you cut me all at once, and kill me straight away, or will you go slowly, and watch the pain in my eyes grow, and the light in them fade? Or maybe you won't cut at all. Maybe you'll just keep it there, teasing me with the knowledge that you can cut me at any time, taking pleasure and glee in the control? And what will I do with the knife you gave me? I will point it at my own heart, and carve away pieces of it for you, despite the pain, despite the suffering, I'll be at your mercy. Even if the knife, the love, you gave me wasn't real, and couldn't hurt you, it'll cut into me anyway. And if you cut my throat with my love? I may walk away, I may see that it's the best thing for me to do, and I'll take my knife back. But I won't be gone for long. I'll cut at my heart with it every night, telling myself that I wasn't good enough, and that I loved the pain you inflicted on me. And I'll come crawling back, begging forgiveness, begging for you to let me back into your life. And you'll own me then, I'll be forever yours, no matter the times you cut me. So, what will it be?