I look at the blade,
shining,
ready to cut,
to make her bleed,
to end her pain.
I see her raise it above her wrist,
a single tear in the corner of her eye.
I stop her,
and wipe away the tear.
"I have to," she said,
in barely a whisper.
I remind her of the days no longer,
the fun we used to have,
the laughter in which we shared.
I remind her
of how much he loves her,
how much he cares.
"Those days are gone and over."
She raises the blade once more,
cries again,
but without any regrets,
she went.