Release

• Beneath the surface it flows
• Like a river beneath flesh
• When I press my wrist
• I feel the pressure build
• Beneath my fingertip

• I slide the blade swiftly
• Its cold and dull and wet
• Metal penetrates flesh
• So far down it dives
• I feel it in my bone

• As I withdraw the blade
• Tides of crimson flow
• Freely from the gap
• My lips part slightly as I
• Exhale warm breath

• I put the blade away
• Fourth drawer down
• Behind the pushpin
• Where it waits
• Until I need it again