No Fault Discourse

I am dating karma,
She inflicts paper cuts
and salts the wound,
I am fading, there
is no love in the blues.

Love is not cliche
or even a word,
its simply a verb
from a coward.

Karma throws me
like a boomerang,
she has my back
with a  knife in hand.

She is my curse,
and I run to her,
She is my breath
and logical discourse.

I thought karma forgave;
I guess she is a bitch.