Bang.
Wait – I will peel the skin from my fingertips
and write our names
with the blood that remains.
And I will listen to the faint pulse
of my heartbeat in my wrists,
while you’re smiling at me
and we’re slowly dying.
I hate it when you call me scared,
like it doesn’t mean anything at all
when I drain myself for you.
This message is all you’re getting
at the receiving end of the barrel,
I’m pulling the trigger.
Bang, we’re dead.
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