Be still, my love. When you squirm, it breaks my heart. The blade is sharp, but my tongue is sharper. Be still, or I’ll wail the house down.
This is the greatest compliment. The only testament worthy of our love. We’ll be together for always. Always. Hand in hand. Arm in arm. Dermis on dermis.
Be still. Please. I only slice because I love you. I move my hands with love and grace, to honour you. To honour our love.
I only want to wear your skin, the way all lovers want to. To touch the things you touch. To feel the things you feel.
I only want us to be one and the same. The truest of loves. Two halves of a whole.
Be still, for now. Be still. I feel your pain, it has become my own. I fear and feel the ache of a heart that yearns to attach itself to you.
When you cry, I cry. When you laugh, just the same. As you bleed, I bleed. Not literally, but you understand. One is a metaphor, the other is fact. A few more drops and then it’s done.
You and I will be one.
But still, you wince. Even though I don’t ask for much. I love you. That is all. What’s a little blood between lovers?