Broken

     There's a knife in your hand and I watch warily from where I'm trapped.

     You saunter closer to me, cooing that you'll never harm me; I drink up every word like a thirsty man.

     You bring the knife up closer to me and I react; you just say everything will be fine.

     Yet again, I believe your lies.

     The blade cuts into my skin and I cry out; you press your finger to my lips and mutter that I'll enjoy this.

     You continue to cut until you open my chest wide enough to reach inside and rip my heart out.

     You pull back and we look at it feverously pumping in your hand.

     A twisted smile dawns your mouth and you squeeze; I scream in pain and you continue to do so, adding your knife to the mix.

     Finally, you have enough and toss my broken heart aside, walking away while laughing.