Knife Between Shoulder Blades

When I looked at him, all I saw was a polished piece of fine steel. His wide smile sucked me in like a magnet and when I succumbed to his charisma, I could see nothing else but the glint of his charm. I could not know that his half-lidded blue eyes held such imminent danger just as he had no idea that deep within, I had a bladed reserve of resourcefulness and strength.

Yet, I went with him through the chiseled tunnel of no return without ever looking back. All I could envision was his muscular, tanned body, honed to perfection. I braced myself for the ride, climbing atop his fine tempered metal. But soon, his cutting edge began to bore into my soul and I felt impaled on his stiletto of emotions which lanced me to my core. I knew that I had to escape his toxicity and deceit before the shank of me was obliterated.

Every blade has another side and the war between us could not be bandaged. Both of us suffered penetrating wounds from the onslaught, from which we would never recover. Neither of us would ever look at a knife the same way again. A knife of bitterness can cut the flesh of a person or his throat; can be his sustenance or his poison, his reinforcement or his destruction.