It is the battlefield and I am in charge.
I select the sleekest gun available and I prepare to;
shoot your brains out.
I never believed in violence, but people say there is a first for everything.
I will grip that damn gun and make it an extension of my hand. I will know all its curves by heart and would have memorised its shape. It fits perfectly in my hand. It looks great too.
I look great too, legs apart, feet firmly planted on a mishapen picture of your face, each feet on each blown-up eye belonging to you. My triumphant feet are clad in black leather, as the rest of me.
Everything seems to be perfect as I stand in my hate.
But.
It doesn't feel right.
Slowly, I lower the gun. I take off my mask and shake my hair out. I take out a mirror and watch two teardrops glisten on my cheek. Even more slowly, I angle the mirror so it reflects you perfectly. I expect to see a smiling face, walking towards me, ready to entertain me with your next joke.
Instead.
I see nothing. Neither do I see anything remotely connected to you, or any parts of your body come floating towards me. I don't see anything for the next hour either.
Then I realize,
You were never there.
And you aren't coming, either.
2 comments:
No wave the path of those can stay
who worship the sublime;
Effect of their repentance makes
them safely swim away;
Propped by 'Reliance absolute'
they pass wild current's sway,
By 'Perfect Sailor' met were they
in mid-current, as guide!
Hey,
that sounds oddly familliar. i'm sorry.
Nothing else for me to say.
No way I can make up for mistakes made in the past. I am sorry. I love you.
Post a Comment