The Knife... She Talks To Me. Poem by Brad Kellum

Pushing the blade against the skin.....such red esctasy.
The gleaming of the metal reflectin the light of truthful eyes.
'Just push a little deeper, just a little.' she says.
Just hearing her sweet words.
A mere whisper.
A lovers breath.
Feeling the cold embrace of her loving body.
'Just pull.' she whispers'
'Just pull, no, not there. You know where.' she says.
Standing there a virgin shaking with anticipation.
Welcoming the final release.
Warmth filling the hole.
Damned and cold replacing the face.
Needing, wanting, loving the question in mind.
Where to place her......the neck, wrist, or thigh.
Any will do.
Lovingly she says ' I know what you want. I know what you need.
This is just another moment, anothe moment in your life. A life
of constant failure. What's one more. What's one more failure.'
The final one to be done.
' After this there will be no more.' she contiues.
Looking her in the eyes.
Turning her in my hand.
'Don't you want that, to not be a screw-up anymore. Why not
go out in a bang, or more precisely a pull of my love for you.
Because, in that moment we are one. There is nothing else just flesh
and steal......steal and flesh intertwined. Beauty is in life, but it is in death too.' she finishes.
Appling pressure contemplating life's past deeds.
Wondering what have I done that's really worth while.