swallowed the knife

at some point, I must have swallowed the knife

because when I walk I can feel it —

the sharp edge cutting my stomach lining

and the blood and bile and everything else

that is dark and foul

is twisting and turning inside of me

and coming out like dark clouds

from my mouth and my ears and my eyes

and every pore and orifice of my body


there was that one night I met someone beautiful

and when we embraced, our bodies came so close

and the pressure was as strong and forceful as our desires

and the knife point pressed against my skin

and punctured through and cut him in the belly


he told me he didn’t want to see me again

until I had the blade removed


I never saw him again


I don’t remember when I swallowed the knife

but it’s there and it presses against my skin

wounding me as I move in any direction,

stretch, lie down, stand up, run or jump

it’s there, this mordant instrument that cuts me

over and over again,

and I think I’m afraid to remove it


I’d have to give it back to you,

and without its pain,

I’d have to forgive

and that’s much harder to endure

than living with the constant agony

of being cut over and over again

by your knife that I’ve swallowed

those many nights ago



2 thoughts on “swallowed the knife

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