Breathe One's Last

I scoop it up
solely with wrongful intentions.
So glossy and frigid
between my fingers.
Thighs, hips, forearms, and stomach numb.
I run it across my skin
to feel the rush.
The memories flood my mind,
everything clouds with anger and sadness.
Tears spill over the edge.
I run it across my skin
to feel the rush,
but now there is force behind the pull.
Ready. Set. Bleed.
It opens as a straight edge,
then the barriers can’t contain.
The drops run down my porcelain skin
and collide with the floor.
Paper towels, gauze, and bandages.
Apply force to halt the bleeding.
What if I don’t care for it to stop?
Suicidal thoughts insist.
Employ. Cleanse. Repeat.
The bleeding eventually subsides,
but the pain does not.
Unfortunately, this time was not deserving
to breathe one’s last.