Edge

Cut. Cut.
The edge, it is sharp. Do not touch the edge.
He warned me.

Cut. Cut.
How many times must I show you this?
When will you love me?

Cut. Cut.
I held it up to my neck, breath quickening.
The words you spoke flew around in my mind.

Cut. Cut.
Even when I fell dead to the ground, would you love me?
You told me you loved me. You cherished my existence.

Cut. Cut.
But that was only when I was under the ground, you sick with misery and guilt.
Do you still even love me?

Cut. Cut.
The edge was sharp, you warned. Don't touch it, you said.
Why didn't you stop me?