To know why someone carves their name in your skin
Is a kind of complicity, of being them
To forbear what you know, instead of feeling
What has happened, to you, a world apart.
It's not cruel for the one who would eat out your skull
To deny you, for they know not what they do,
Your wisdom surmises, to catch the void
Of their innocence. But there's something in you
Independent of what they do or don't intend,
Although that becomes impossible to see.
It's as if you planned it exactly this way.
