I don't like that I would bleed for anything if you told me I do it well
but I still agree to bleed
your scalpel sinks beneath my skin
I never say a word
even when the cuts sink deeper
your scalpel lingers longer
the blood drips slower
until exsanguination would be a kindess
when you're done with me, you turn around
showing me the canvas you painted
it looks nothing like me
the girl is beautiful
I don't know where you used all the crimson you stole from me; I can see it everywhere on me but nowhere on the girl
she is me, from years ago, and she is still beautiful
