Winter air reminds me of
the coldness of my love,
like opening the wings of roaches.
Underneath the door, I see
shadows reaching into me,
forming as your foot approaches.
For one moment, the razorblade touched me.
It felt so much better than your hands.
In those few seconds, you loved me,
but I didn't understand.
Blood drips from an open scar.
Hearing just how close you are,
I blink my eyes to keep from crying.
Doorknob turns. I see your face
staring with such deep disgrace.
I wish I'd known you weren't lying.