You voice is the razor that slits my wrist.
Every syllable that departs from your lips stings as it reaches my skin.
The burn i feel as my skin pink and swollen opens up is exhilarating followed by a sudden drop.
Our conversations are so terribly painful they consist of long bouts of silence.
With every spoken encounter im left bleeding more than the time before.
Your voice cuts at me without intention.
Even when you speak with the softness of cotton you voice still cuts like the finest steel.
Im a glutten for pain because you voice is the last connection i have to you.
Your voice slices at me, leaves me writhing in agony and i still ask to hear it.