These are the words I want to pin to you,
But you don’t think in tounge twisters.
So I will brand you instead with empty words,
Like love, because nothing else comes to mind.
I am revolted by this urge growing in my womb,
A yen I can’t ask you to fill.
All sense directs me away from you but,
Here I am at your door again-
Ready for you to rip me apart once more.
And I can’t help but wonder how my heart
Can still beat in your presence
When you have shredded it into paper cut outs of everything you will never be.
So maybe it’s me,
But I think that it’s you
That has been carving away at my body-
Shaping me into whatever seems to fit for the moment.
But the moment passes
And you continue to work,
Discarding the unwanted limbs onto the floor
To be swept up into another one of your lines of affection.
Somehow dismemberment won’t stop the butterflies
From turning over my gut.
And I believe that you believe what you have said
And that Every Lie you fall for,
Just as hard as I do

Prince ....

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-slit-the-sheet-the-sheet-i-slit-and-on-the-slitted-sheet-i-sit-with-freshly-fried-fresh-flesh-i-need-not-your-needles-they-re-needless-to-me/