Stephanie Papanikolou Poems

A drop of blood runs down my hand, it glimmers off the razor band. The blade, it shines, like a fiery star. Tonight I won't leave just one scar. My fingers tremble, my hands shake, my arms in blood they are caked. Cutting is addictive, a narcotic drug, it's like a virus, an unriddable bug. They say it's useless, but they don't know, why I've reached this under low. I've dropped to death, I've met him twice, but I always seem to come back to life. I see him always in the blade, an unescapable escapade. I need you, I figured, I need you, I caved, I need you, so I can be saved. But you never show, you've never come, but you'll always go. When I need you most, you disappear, become ghost. Fade into the void, into the abyss, is it sad to say that say you I miss? I turned to my razor to take the pain, besides you, it keeps me sane. I know you're gone, you won't come back, I'll just make up for all I lack.
One cut,
Two cuts,
Three cuts,
...