To The Knife

You get to go back home
You get to walk away.
You don’t live in its confines
and it doesn’t live inside you

You think she’s just a woman
you think she’s got a religion
you don’t contend with those murders
you don’t fall asleep in position.

They tell you there’s distance and time
There is no distance, no time
They don’t understand the rush,
they who who could never make love
to the knife