you made me do it, you know?

you made me plunge my blade into the soft pillowy flesh

into the pure, unbroken heart

lighter than the feather of anubis

you made the blood spill –

you did, not me –

from beneath the unblemished, unscarred skin

an ugly, horrible crimson fountain staining me

staining us

marring us

ruining us

you made me kill our love

so i can walk away as it cries, bleeding on the street

you made me look away from it and ignore it

so that i could leave, and not die with it

you made me do it – i know you did

because i would have saved it if i could,

if it was only up to me,

i would continue nursing it and protecting it,

until even i withered away into nothing.

i could have sat with that corpse,

because even being nothing would have been better than having nothing

but you made me fucking do it

you made me twist the knife-

you didn’t hold my hand, but you might as well have-

your hate was fuel enough

your abandonment was motivation enough

to do it.

you turned my memories to blood

you made our love into a body

into dead weight

that i would carry with me, if i could,

if my bones were strong enough, and could go miles without splintering,

but that seems much more feasible to me

to just leave rotting on the side of the road

like you left me.

because you made me do it

and i don’t like to be reminded of my own mistakes.