It’s all here,
the poem I was too scared
to write you,
writhing
like a dying
beast between us,
gasping for air,
I know you’re scared, but
one shot to the head is best.
End it, and
at least one
of us walks away.
I sink to my knees.
You whisper please,
this isn’t what I—
Maroon pools,
it’s over it’s over, and
I step over you.
