A Bit Like Watching Ritual Suicide

A bit odd and bit morbid I guess.

I'll open my arms to you my love.

You'll be the razor held to my wrist.

A pain I love though it's killing me inside.

 

Now open your heart to me my sweet.

And I'll be the cyanide in your iced tea.

The slow torture you think you deserve.

 

And when the truth of fairy tales is revealed.

And when the dust settles.

The fight fading from their eyes, as they begin to accept the truth.

We'll be standing side by side.

Though I know you and I know me and what we are.

I'm sure this feeling must be love.

Reviews

[Edward Clay]

i think the last stanza should be split into two, so the poem becomes a four stanza poem of equal length. i don't know why, it wont play any other purpose than just aesthetics. i very much liked the ending of this poem, but there were two problems i had with it, and those problems were just two words. the use of the word razor and the word tears, are simply too obvious. a bit ofimagination here, and an alternative word, would transform thispoem into something much more unique, and original. it has a voice, but it's speaking in a familiar accent. but just a few small changes could change that. but that's my point of view.
p.s. love the title