Dismantle my head, darling But take it slow. The little bolts Might perplex you. I suppose, they are meant to.
You could flip through the pages of my past, A manual of sorts - the instructions to disassemble me buried underneath echoes of memories. Try not to smudge the ink, please.
Use that scalpel to slice through my veins, darling. The blade of a pencil sharpener used to be enough! now, it has been replaced by the slightest hint Of hatred in your words.
now, it has been replaced by an afterthought and another one.
And when, neither of us can take it anymore, Your gloved hands shall gently close my eyes. Your gloved hands shall unplug me.
And when, I can't take it anymore, the colours dancing behind my closed eyelids will tire. You will know when I cease to be. And maybe then, maybe then, you will love me.