Caress me with your scissor hands.
Trace the contours of my spine.
Write your name into my chest
Say a name that isn't mine.

Make my muscles quiver so.
Make me tremble in my depths.
Then have me whisper on my knees
your name, with one last breath.

Cut me with those scissor hands.
Split my being into two.
And make sure I forever know
not how or why but who.