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Pins and Needles

I had to knock the proverbial dust off of this very old poem, but I pondered that you all may like it. :)

You hold a glistening object in your palm,
I realise what it is too late,
You dig it in before I realize.
You dig it into my heart.
You stab, stab emotion, stab feeling; stab me into a painful blur.
You stop. Leave that pin in, reach.
Reach out. Another pin lines your palm.
And again, you stab. A red trickle is invisible.
Angry thoughts flood as your pin searches in deeper.
And again you pause.
To let the pain seep in.
These pins, each wreaking havoc upon my soul.
Each pin, carefully selected, ideal for this moment.
Each pin you promised not to stab me with.
Why do you?
Cut. Stop your memories now. They don't belong here.
And neither do you or I.

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