Last night I hurt the only one
that comforts me in chilling dark.
Your eyes, they are the rattled gun
that murders me; you’ve laid your mark.
The target sits atop my face,
I seek your wounded core.
You shot me in a sacred space;
my lungs, they breathe no more.
But you pick me off the ****** ground
and cradle my shattered being
till my mind knows that I am found,
and my heart stops disagreeing.
Though knowing that I worry you...
it means I am a killer too.
Sep 17, 2017
Sep 17, 2017 at 10:12 AM UTC
Last night I hurt the only one
that comforts me in chilling dark.
Your eyes, they are the rattled gun
that murders me; you’ve laid your mark.
The target sits atop my face,
I seek your wounded core.
You shot me in a sacred space;
my lungs, they breathe no more.
But you pick me off the ****** ground
and cradle my shattered being
till my mind knows that I am found,
and my heart stops disagreeing.
Though knowing that I worry you...
it means I am a killer too.
Written December 8th, 2016 for my Creative Writing course at community college.
