now lies within what I am. I am the butcher, I am his knife. I am. I raised my arm while I closed my eyes. I am the murderer, I am his crime. I am. I
I only could spend one more night there, in the house where I met you, my darling. When I went upstairs I heard wood creaking, creaking like my heart. I
trouble if I?d stay, so I left, I left without you. I recall your words over and over again and I wish you had lost a part of you within me. I try to
