Monday, February 22, 2016

Killed It

I killed you.
Handed you the gun.
Loaded the bullets

that night when I ended
everything and anything
that might have been.

You voiced everything
I refused to give form.

You struggled to find
your way out of the cave
while I embraced the blindness,
huddled in claustrophobia.

How many bullets,
how many reasons did you need?
How many nights did you
play that game, uncertain
if you really wanted victory?

I voided your depression.
The unraveling of your mind
exposed my unfinished edges,
my own potential for madness.

Could I have counted
out your pills for twenty years,
pulled you back from sanity
every time you danced to the edge?

I was never brave enough for you.
Uncertain how to rescue a damsel,
I left you to fight your dragons alone.

I think of you every time
I bring the whip down on my own back.
I learned to wallow,
but never knighted up.

Put the gun in your mouth.
How many bullets did I give you?
Pull the trigger. Once. Twice, and
silence everything about myself
I ever saw, reflected back from

your beautiful, dead eyes.

1 comment: