The Masochist

My heart scares me sometimes

Its need for something that tears it apart

The howls of a terribly troubled soul

and the cracking noise of shattering hope

are music to it

It craves the kick upon kick to the ribs

Like that punch to the gut you get

from hurtful words

like the slash of a dagger as it stabs the pink, plump flesh

That neat and pure pain

oh such a fulfilling high

The exquisite anguish

only caused by a wound that is superior to

the menial physical kind.