How badly can we scare each other? Me, with a bleeding-scared slash to the wrist, and you with morbid thoughts of "what-if" when looking towards the trees. Both of us smiling, hiding, and not saying a word until it all breaks down with the softly empty statement. ("The knife didn't slip.")
How badly can we scare ourselves? Rock back and forth with tears down your face, staring at the phone and wondering if you should dial, while across town, the other's doing the same hesi-moment thing. Roll along the carpet, body over body, holding the rope and worrying yourself back into your head. ("It almost feels like rape to me.")
How badly can we hurt each other? Bites in every kiss, like a baritone between our heads. A struggle on the floor for dominance and pleasure, a game of who will submit first and how far will we have to go before we get there. ("I'm always hurting you.")
How badly can we hurt ourselves? Holding ourselves separate behind mental walls, reaching through solid brick for comfort. We rot within our insecurities, our thoughts as acid in the veins of our logic. ("You have to trust that I'll catch you when you fall.")
How badly, darling? How much can our flames flicker, and fan, and burn us?
"I spent the week thinking about driving into a tree."
"I'm afraid to be blind."
"These marks aren't just from my baritone case."
"I'm fine - I was in complete control."
"You scared me last night."
And the unsaid words - ("You hurt me.")
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