I'd like for you to feel this. I'd love for you to cry tears of fire that melt away your dishonest smile. [This is a knife piercing an asymmetric heart, and I'm glued to the handle.] I lick the blade, and I'm reminded of the time you cut your lip, and I kissed it better. As I run my tongue along the silver, I feel more than you've ever let me. As I run the blade along my tongue, I feel more than you. Can I separate myself from the memories that flood back into my mind? Like all the times I gave up on myself and let myself die? I lick the blade, and I realize that the blood tastes better than kisses you've blessed me with. I'll never regret a thing. This is my knife, and I'm glued to the handle.