// running with scissors //

They told me loving you was like running with scissors - I shouldn't have done it in the first place, so it's my fault I got hurt. But I'll keep patching myself up because my blood looks so pretty on the blades, and because you said that I look beautiful bleeding for you.
I'll let you pick up the scissors and slice me open, if you promise you'll tell me you love me after, and let me heal.
But now you stumble and your cuts aren't as efficient as before. I'm bleeding out too fast for my body to replace, and you don't care. You'll keep dribbling alcohol into the wounds, and now I'm crying because it's starting to hurt, and I can't pretend this is love anymore.