Ideation

It is aaaagony for the both of us.
You are longing for a room full of knives,
Longing for a famine of yourself.
I am rippling from you.
I have known the foreshock, but never the quake.
We came too close tonight.

You have a bloodbath in your head,
All violence and a morbid kind of peace.
I can't hope for a truce,
I can't hope for anything.
I can't do a thing to stop you.

Is it my fault?
Would you somehow blame me for not doing enough?
I would blame me. I wed myself to it.
I would blame everyone who didn't serve their heart to you on a platter.
Would you be angry?

I've got shrapnel in my stomach.
I'm heaving but nothing comes to my mouth.
Silent bawling in my bed is all that I do,
Ripples liquefying down my cheeks.

I know a tsunami when I feel one.
I know the fear now, the dread, pulling me in. I know the sorrow that jostles my bones.

You want a room made of knives.
You want razors for eyes.
You want a sharpened stick, for all you care.
You want blades, and
I am the the only blunt object in this room.

I would still love you. I still do.
I couldn't hurt you.
I couldn't hurt you.
I trust you with my life.
I don't trust you with yours.