The Knife - James Schaffer

Like the dulled, reddened coals of deadened fire

haunting reflections are in all faces

hiding within midnight’s darkest spaces,

lying in wait for my longing to tire.

Like the dying are sprawled beside a pyre

your fragments are scattered in all places;

our passing moments are blurring traces;

my memories are bound with bladed wire.

I’m certain now, Hell is an empty place.

it must be true, that I, “like how it feels,”

at the greatest detriment to my health.

It's been so long since I've last seen your face,

but, I’ll ensure that this wound never heals,

“You are the knife I turn inside myself.”