Razor

I’m new, just taken out of my plastic bag.
I scream of femininity with my pink color and the flowers engraved on to my spine
My moisturizing pad gets slimy when she dips me in the hot bathwater.
She pulls me up her leg, behind her knee, then up her thigh,
I have seen more of her than she’s seen.
She moves me with careful strokes, cautious not to cut herself.
I’m shaking now because she is,
She’s crying.
I’m clenched in her right hand
Now she’s violently thrusting me against her wrist.
Over and Over
She’s no longer dunking me in the water;
my moisturizing pad has gone dry,
my blades have gone dry,
But she keeps using me against her infantile wrist
She keeps cutting herself
She stops.
The water has been dyed red by her youthful blood
She lies backing the tub, crying, doing nothing to stop the bleeding,
Then she slowly releases me as she sinks into the bloody water
When I hit the bottom of the tub, so does her lifeless young body.