#//also lord i dont usually do poetry please be nice sdjlkfsd

[feminaferitas]

a poem from one of shauna shipman's journals, dated february 14, 199x???

It's bloody work, to love the girl who holds the knife. She has a heart like you and I, but hers is trained to beat, to beat and keep beating until all is raw and tender and weeping.

That's why it's in a cage, you see. Even if she would crack every rib to set it free. Her knife cuts bone, but it prefers the flesh.

She keeps her mind sharp like her weapon, full of cutting cleverness. The word cleave has a double edge for her knife's single one. With it, she would cut you in two and hold fast the bleeding halves, as if time and tenderness would make you whole once more.

The girl is both Damocles and the sword, held in place by the strength of one lock of hair -- brown, sleek, and at her age, meant to be kept in a locket close to the heart of her love.

But it's bloody work, to love the girl who holds the knife. You move in close and the sharpness piercing your skin sounds like the whisper of her sorrow. I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

From where I stand the handle's dull and wrapped in beaten leather, soft and worn in my hand. Safe, familiar, home.