I didn't realize there was a gun in my mouth until I heard the safety click.

I hate the sound of my teeth

on metal
on metal
on metal

and the way my tongue eagerly traces the muzzle, the safety, until I look up,
my lips wrapped around a barrel, while I beg like I've never begged for any other,

and I buckle

to my knees

teeth crunching against the metal in the process
                                          and I feel my joints rusting and breaking,
because my nerves have been trained like steel and I  have been waiting,
waiting in a way
                     that makes me ashamed,
                                                  just for you to pull the trigger.

                                                       ­              Please.

                                                        ­          ******* it

                                                            ­        *********.