I punch holes with your insecurities

just like the ones you cut from me

i punch

and punch

until your ego

bruised and blue

become

ink wells for pointed lines i carve into

paper skin sliced thin into

perfect strips stained red

pooling at your feet

reaching for me

when i’m satisfied with this operation

a surgery of cruel precision

I bandage my wounds with your ribbons

when your blood dries and scabs fall from your repaired skin

i sharpen my tools to do it again