You slice me wholly through,
to my core.

I plunge the incision back at you,
and the foot-long dagger disappears

in your thick skin,
at your tall wall. I

grab the hole by its sides and rip,
pull the dagger out to thrust back in,

and find you
are skin deep—

you exist,
spend time,

you reside
in your skin—

when I slice you to your
core then, and

I miss your heart.

I miss your heart
by a mile.