The blade cut swiftly across the thin sheet of porcelain. Sliding smoothly across the canvas, leaving a crimson river in its wake. The desolate stream of red liquid pours out like a waterfall, replacing the apathetic aperture within my heart with the soothing sense of numbness and twinge of slight pain. My heart leaps, if only for a second, and the unconsoled hole cursing my heart was pleased temporarily yet again. Tears prickled the corners of my eyes and I blinked them away rapidly. The open window brought in a brusque and harsh wind that grazed ever so softly across the weeping gashes and lacerations decorating the creamy expanse of my arms. I shivered and stumbled slightly as I rose to close the window. My disaster piece stood on its own. A seven letter word shone brilliantly against pale skin. Adorned with rivers, streams, and other pavements, it was a sad depiction of a painting. The breaking of my flesh is synonymous to the tugging and pulling at my heart. The void was dank and within it permeated a deeper need. A need for feeling. The endless nonchalance was paining me deeply. A thirst grew for emotions and I fed it listlessly. Beneath the streams and rivers flowing seamlessly was a pattern of pale pink scars, some reopened with the newer rendevous.
My secret remains safe and I feel a slight shiver of satisfaction as I gave delightedly into my past. A thin fild of white covered the old scars which connected, flowing endlessly across the once flawless expainse, tainting them a whitish hue, marking them forever.
My assailant rested peacefully in my grip, glinting seductively in the soft light of my haven. The light bounced off of it and the eerie, entrancing glow reminded me of the similar dancing scarlet controlling my arm, making me, molding me into something we all yearn for now and then.
P E R F E C T I O N
