Stabbed in the back with a silver dagger.
"I'm sorry," she said,
And then picked it up again -
Sharpening the blade.
With great dexterity she plunged it deeper,
Deeper into my tender flesh.
And with this my blood ran fast;
Down in a river over my crippled back.
We stood there, she and I,
Watching my life spill onto the cold, hard earth.
She said nothing, and walked away.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.
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