You Can'T, See Me... Poem by James McLain

i lay in my bed, eating popcorn with soda,
it is next to the mirror to your room.
i see you, in your bra and white slippy, your
radio, keeps my thoughts from your head,
or you would stop.
as i try and call out your name.it will not for
some reason pass forth from my lips
i see the old scars and the new pink ones,
the razor in your hand draws me up, what is
heady becomes Vienna's small pup, you are
dazed.
the first cut is effortless, even the butcher is
graceless next to you.
the second cut is deep, i see pink, red, neat
my pop corn becomes as bid as, my eyes
the blood starts in a small trickle, your eyes
grow glazed, your lap, in white slip becomes
a lake of red crimson, my clover fades.
you come out of it as quietly as you went into it.
you hurriedly change, bath and then exiet the room,
i then hear a knock at my door.