The Stiletto

​

I'd been holding it for weeks,
my timid palm admiring
its lethal shape,
the sinister point so sharp
it vanished before my eyes;
my shaky wrist appreciating
its malicious balance,
a symmetry so violent
i was afraid to put it down.

At last the moment came!
You said or did the thing
that ground my mind
into gunpowder! And i was much
too ready to cast a spark!

Then my hateful mouth
with terrifying grace
like a malevolent surgeon
dropped the blade precisely
into the raw center of your
tragically open heart:

"I hate you."

It shocked me, true,
that as the stiletto pierced
clean through you,
it circled around
and gutted me, too.

​

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