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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

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Posted

The edge of the knife slices through skin, blood, muscle, and bone. Each medium savored by the man wielding the knife. Pain, sharp and dull, reverberates in my skull. Darkness suffocates and memory becomes merely sustaining gasps at life.

 

We played house together I was Mom and he was Dad and the dolls were our babies we had tea and then constructed a Lego home. We fought over who got to name the game that we created because we didn’t want to play tag with the other kids that didn’t like us that day. Boys had cooties of the childish type and he wasn’t my friend and I played dolls with girls. I was taller than he was and he made fun of me for my height and I laughed at him for being short. I watched him grow and loved him and called him on his bluff.

 

The blade dulls as it drove through. Scraps of bone clotted blood. Mutilated shards of my body splatter his bare chest. Sighs of remorse rattle in his throat as he says,

“I mean it.” Despair floods my eyes.

“Please don’t. I don’t need your lies.”

“But I love you.”

“I know that, but.”

 

Blood gurgles from my mouth. He tries to staunch it with more words. The blade turns to bandages. Metal edges become malleable sheets of cotton. White stained red. Red stained black. White stained black. The bandages do not save me. Flesh torn by his knives as he utters the deceit that turned love to knife,

“You’re perfect.”

Posted

*nod*

i'd rather be beaten than yelled at.. bruises heal, but words never go away.

astonishing how devastating lies are, and how deadly control is.

Posted (edited)

Wow...

 

I can see it. Picturing childhood friends or even siblings.

 

It gave me a chill... Nice work!

 

edit: My freakin' space key has gone all bonkers! Grrr...

Edited by DeanTheAdequate
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