It is not your tears
It's my blood
Pouring reluctantly from the vessels
You put a sharpened knife
Before me
Daring me to go forward
And I did
You stood coldly over me
Looking down
Didn't even touch the hand that I offered
You shook your head once again
And took a step back
As the last drop of the blood dript
You ought to know that
It hurt more than the dagger you placed in me
