Stiletto

What is love , if not the keenest blade left buried in my ribs?
Its pitiless tip touched my heart once
And left a mark like
An orb weavers web

Once withdrawn, said flawless blade
Keen and pitliless, brought forth not blood
But sawdust and taprust
Empty me drained emptily

Like an hourglass upended
Yet spilling something more bland than sand
Cascading entropy through the limp
Grasp of my hands

With my last breath i demand an end
To both thought and feeling
Should there be any witnesses they would be
Sent reeling; sent sprawling

By the emptiness of my body
Being filled with air
Said keenest blade
Do vacumes tear.