Your eyes are razor blades, so sharp, so sure.
The skin of my eyelids tears upon them.
You're speaking with your roaring chainsaw voice
And ripping open my chest cavity.
Under that mass of dripping blood and gore
My heart beats, desperate, against my ribcage.
You could plunge in your axe-blade fingers and
Rip it out before the air cooled around
My lungs, which take in a shuddering breath
And slowly still. Maybe then my eyes would
Be as hollow as yours are as they look
Like I weren't here before you
Coloured with death and unrequited love.
You'll never love me back. It's killing me.