The Sacrifice

A frigid touch grazes the
tiny hairs on your nape
and there rose gooseflesh.

Staring calmly into the
wound, shark-eyed,

was I.

A magnetic warmth
pulsates across my palms,

Gushing
between
my fingers|

over a sharp sheen of silver.

Your heart
staggers
and
your breath
shatters&

I decided;
I want it back.

 

-LM