Accomplices

I was the first cut you ever made.

Your eyelashes fluttered beneath my lips,

and once I started to whisper your name,

your nails dug a grave within my skin,

making sure it would always bear your mark.

I could count on one hand how many

times I made you sigh that night.

And I swear I could hear your heart screaming

after I left.

You were the first book I ever wrote.

The small smiles that grew gradually on your face

during my presence,

were endless pages of comfort.

It was enough for the panic to resurface,

causing remnants of my dying soul to stir.

Armies of unarmed feelings clashing,

the winners forming regimes of uncertainty

that would cost a queen her deck of cards.

You and I weren't made for the soft stuff.

Between summer nights of heated words

and calm autumn breezes of resolutions,

we met in the middle and created foreign

concepts of forever.