Designs of the Dermis

A cold blade reciting poetry, 

Endearments whispering me to reminisce and retell a forbidden soliloquy

Barricades won’t keep her out

A year in the making all to be destroyed by 

One nick beautifully told through the pain that flows away with its crimson flow

Arteries demanding an explanation 

Why they must again be subjected to overtime 

Layers of flesh screaming silently in whispers 

355 days 20 hours 29 minutes 43 seconds

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“Are you sure you wish to continue? You only have 9 more days until your 1-year mark”

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