I stand over the sink
The silver blade waltzes across my skin
The crimson beads
It falls making small splashes on the floor
It makes me shiver
I watch it drop like red rain
I look at my body in the mirror
I trace the white lines that make mountains on my skin
I finger the purple bruises resemble the clouds outside.
I follow the crimson making rivers on my pale skin,
Tracing my hollow stomach and my small thighs
It falls to my feet and to the floor
Then my blade starts a quick step
My blade leaps and soars across my white skin,
Like a bow to a violin
The red rain swirls down me quicker now
Cantering down me
I let it go
The ball ends and I fall to the floor,
Tired after the lovely ball in the wilderness...