I hand you the knife

Blade in my palm

I’m giving you the handle

I’ve got a lot of cuts anyway.

I’ve been stabbed, cut open, left bleeding before

Come on, don’t be afraid, I dare you to do it

Feels safer giving you the knife than

you bringing one out from behind your back.

At least I know when to squeeze my eyes shut

And clench my fist

Or maybe they’ll be open this time.

I’m used to it now, I’m tough!

You look at it

It’s shining under the light of truth above us

And you look at it

And you put your warm hand over mine.

I drop the knife out of shock

I guess I have gotten so used to the cold surface

Of the knife

That I have forgotten how warm your hand can be.

Perhaps I will find myself picking the knife up again

Time to

Time

But each time you put your hand on mine

You give my wounds more space to heal

till perhaps those wounds will be no more

and I will stop expecting people to hurt me

and I will start inviting people to love me

And I can start trusting again.