Jealousy is a loaded gun,
And you made each of their names
Bullets in my chamber.
The end of the barrel
Kisses me softly,
Between the eyes,
Where you used to.
And as you twirl them all round in a Russian Roulette
My finger quivers over the trigger.
Sweat makes it impossible to grip
And thinking back makes it
Impossible
To think forward...
What next?
You cocked it,
The gun,
So I'm ready to go.
I think...
Until, you reach out and try to save me.
Your hand touching mine
Losens my grip on the gun,
My finger becomes limp and I come back to life as
Your promises disarm me,
Your reassurance unloads the gun and
The bullets become evanescent in your kiss.