She pulls me into her embrace
Whispering sweet nothings into my ear
Telling me to stay.
“No one understands you like I do,” she says.
And despite everything that tells me not to
Imprisoned in her grasp
Her frail grasp
But I am too ashamed to free myself.
When I cry
Instead of wiping away the tears
She gives me more reasons to keep them flowing.
When I struggle to get out of bed
She convinces me to stay
Pulling me down
And I am enveloped in her presence
Drowning in it.
When the water runs red
She wraps her arms around me
And instead of taking the blade away
She guides it across my skin
Like an artist creating a masterpiece
I am her poor, tattered canvas.