The Cutting Edge

 

 

There’s a certain gentleness

When a finely sharpened edge

Breaks the skin’s presence

Penetrating, with particular incisiveness,

The covers that are the mirror’s essence

And the humor flows over the ledge

Unto the fields of divest

the claret imbues;  stains.

 

There’s passion in the cutting’s gentleness

As mortality frees away though the open veins.