The Grip on his Blade

A man stands before me as I lay in bed,
his grip on the sharp blade stands out most to me,
and his unwelcomed presence remains ignored.

You lay beside me with your hands to yourself.
We're laying together but it feels like you're miles away from me.
If I reached my hand out to wake you,
how can I be so sure you'll save me?

I feel more connected to the man with the blade in hand,
if he pierced my neck with the blade I'd feel more love than you ever gave me.
He'd make more love to me with each stab than you ever could.
I want to betray you and undress myself for him,
for you have betrayed me with your eyes shut.