Pieces of glass
lying broken upon the ground
I pick a sliver up
My finger rests on the edge
Razor sharp, uneven
waiting to spill blood
Part of me wants to drop it,
run away from the edge
The other part urges me to slip
and watch my skin tear
To watch salty tears mix with blood
as it flows over my heart
How I wish I knew which desire
will win out
In the end.
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