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He Whispers.

Cold as ice slide across my skin.
You are my greatest sin.
A secret I keep hidden from the world.
You stroke my skin with your nails.
Cause little red tears to stain the sheets.
“Why do you slice me open revealing everything and nothing?”
I ask every time.
“To make you real.”
You reply.
Same response every time.
“To make me real.”
What dose this mean?
Its a thought every day.
You kiss my skin with razor lips.
Causing more tears to streak across my skin.
“Why do you hurt me?”
I ask you every day.
“To make you real”
You reply every day.
“I have gone numb.”
I whisper to no one.
But you hear.
You stroke my arm.
The tears drip crimson on the sheets.
“Stop it hurts. Why do you hurt me?”
I scream into the night.
They fall quickly one after the other hitting the sheet.
“To make you real.”
“Am I fake?”
“You are not real.”
“How?”
You kiss my throat.
The crimson stains my clothes.
The tears slide down my skin and stain the sheets.
“Now you are real.”
You whisper to no one.