I pick up the knife, stare at the blade.

The blade that has left me so many memories, but with each came some pain.

I pull the knife across my wrist, saying hello to an old friend.

But as I stare at the blood, looking for an answer,

All I can see is the face, the face of the person that I broke my promise to.

A promise that I wanted to keep, a promise that meant everything to me.

But everything wasn't enough.

All that I can think of to say to the face is,

I'm sorry.