Yet again...

Wounded you again. Took my blade and ran it across your pale and vulnerable flesh, parting the laceration with my dirty fingernails, rubbing in some coarse salt, and sealing the bleeding sore with misplaced kisses and false repentance. You and I both know my bloodied blade will only come out again. It always does. And yet you stay . . . stay with me. . . stay for more. Why?