By: Poe's Rose

I cut your initials into my hand,
And I hope that you will understand,
That I love so much to sacrifice,
Almost until the point of my life.
It's clear my dreams of you deserve
Devotion that will cause me to serve,
And pain myself to ease the sting,
That comes from the love you do not bring.
I don't want you to ask if it hurts,
The pain in my soul is throbbing worse;
The boy is worth each aching hour,
So I keep on, as love's sweet turns sour.
I can't blame it the carving knife,
Though the blade my skin did slice;
I won't say my desired caused the motion,
Because I have too much devotion.
I could stop worrying, wrong or right,
That would make the pain subside,
Which would stop this pressing need,
To write your name until I bleed.
But I don't want to stop thinking,
About you and us and what is brinking,
So I won't let that hole be filled,
Or the poking needle to be stilled.
Every time we talk I act like nothing's wrong
I pull down my sleeve, and dance to a song,
Yet even with my friends, I'm all alone,
'Cuz, after you have left-you're gone.
I'm not a goth and I'm happy otherwise,
Except when I think about your eyes,
And how I said goodbye in a note,
How I wish I could take back what I wrote.
But you won't take another chance,
Because we had a wrecked romance.
Sometimes I think I'll be happy and live...
Then there's the feeling to which I give.
It wells up and over like boiling rejection,
Tears me in two because I'm only a reflection;
What we used to be has left a canyon,
In my heart-which is abandoned.
As I cut into me, I feel so cold,
Because there's already one large hole,
It is drilled straight through my heart,
Love left it there-when I let us part.