Tourniquet

My goodbye is written in the note on my desk,
Telling my story in details no one knows
I look blindly at the crumpled paper in distress
As the blood once again flows.

My thoughts range from panic to euphoria
Thinking that maybe I went too deep this time;
My parents are asleep in the other room
As I am mesmerized by my razor's shine.
My leg oozes the crimson liquid shamelessly
My smile is small for I missed the sweet metallic kiss
It burns in the best way, silently claiming me
As I make another while I bite my lip.

No one is here to make a tourniquet,
It bleeds more than I thought it would,
Maybe I made a mistake
Maybe I shouldn't have made that note...

Too late now.