I wonder what it would look like
If I did kill him
Somehow
What would I tell you?
Or how?
And what would the expression on my face be?
What shape would I be in?
Would I feel justified
Or find myself destroyed?
Complacent? Apathetic?
Or thrilled and elated?
Because last week
I gave my box cutter away
My eyes looking at the ground
Even as he begged me to look at him
And it's a moment I cherish
And wouldn't ever trade
But I wish I had my box cutter again
Rusty and bloodstained
Because he keeps phoning me
Taunting me
And I'm tempted to take him up on his offer
Meet him, armed with more than my fury
And make goddamned sure
He never hurts anyone
EVER
AGAIN
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