i will seal this silver bullet with a bloody kiss
before i put it in the chamber
my shaking hands wrap around the steel
my fingers cold as ice around the trigger
this heart is beating faster than before
my veins pulsate as i close my eyes
the sweet smell of a dying rose
i've placed it in my bloody hand
i'll take a petal and wrap it around my finger
hold it to the trigger...
my breathing is like my sorrow,
in and out, harder and deeper, always the same
just like her hate impaling my heart,
going as deep as humanly possible.without care
the cold steel attracts my bottom chin
rubbing against my flesh;teasing me
i want this broken rose petal to touch my palm
so the bullet will pierce my troubled mind
the spray of bone, flesh, blood and hair
emit onto the walls
paint a tortured picture
completely made of me
so what do i do when i stand before my creator?
do i beg for forgiveness for an unforgiving sin?
not at all...
for only god knows it was self defense...
...from another broken heart
(comment on this poem)