The knife in my hand trembles.
My sobs forcefully shake my body.
The tears stream down my face leaving a salty taste in my mouth.

I can't do this anymore.
How many times am I going to sacrifice a piece of myself for him?

He doesn't love me. He's just using me.
Yet, I still do this ritual every year.

When will I learn? How much of me will be left by the time he leaves?