The Blade

Be still my love, for this is real,
Behold my gleaming razor steel,
Keep your legs apart just like that,
And try not to quiver as the flat,
Of the blade caresses your hot skin.

The cold metal shines, gleaming by candle,
My steady hand on the silver chased handle,
Be still my love, for this is real,
Sliding the gleaming razor steel,
Bare flesh where hair had been.

Cold metal razor, hot water and soap,
My hand moving with slow steady strokes,
Revealing my prize,
Claimed by my eyes,
Soon to be taken within.

Be still my love, for this is real,
I am the gleaming razor steel.