Cut

The knife posed lightly over skin. Just a breath of wind and then a thin red line, and on each side a subtle strip of pink! To all eyes just the merest scratch. But deep below the heart, like a wounded lion, doth roar its deepest pain and its sweetest pleasure. And so the choice when Cupid’s dart draws blood: to let these feelings come welling forth, that they would quite exhaust and leave the body pale and faint, or to let the blood be tamed in icy water; at last to coagulate and dry, so that all the life and passion carried through those veins, be blocked, first in scab and then by scar. 
a morning rose
and the bumblebee burrows deep
in fragrant petals

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