forget

I pull out the knife,
blood drips.
I think about you wanting her hips
and your lips on her lips.

It would be so easy
to never forget,
to constantly regret
the day we met.

But where would that get me,
other than more cuts and tears?
So, it might take years,
but I'll try to forget my fears.

I'll clean off the knife
and put it back in place.
I'll look at your perfect face
and not see a single trace.