Scalpel

She is sharp, pristine,

Sinfully smooth

Stainless steel.

Look how she glimmers.

The reflection travels up the blade,

As if the light were admiring

Her perfect cutting edge;

Transfixed as she shines.

She cuts the air, deftly

Dissects the atmosphere,

Leaving a shimmering wake

Where she has been.

She plunges into me

Without resistance.

Flesh. Muscle. Organ. Pain

As sharp as she.

In her way, she splits tissue

As if it were never there;

Little pressure needed.

She leaves as quickly as she came.

One red drop holds to the blade,

The last liquid of certainty,

It clings, it has nothing else.

But gravity pulls,

Makes it shiver with tension.

It splashes on the floor,

Creating a pool of me.