The Blade

I am at its beckon call
It serves me and I serve it
Symbiotic in nature
We are connected
By thin red lines
That meander across my skin
Flowing rivers of red
It calls me again
its sharp edges welcoming my skin
A cold pinch and then it leaves
Marks from a brush with death
These are new but will soon be old
Never enough scars
never red enough
never made enough
never deep enough
never bleed enough