It's like playing Russian Roulette when I talk to you.
Each time, I'm the one
with the bullet in my head.
A trigger of a mouth and eyes like cross hairs.
I seem to always be able to walk away,
my whole body numb.
Once I was told I looked dead when I was with you.
They saw through the steel walls,
read my eyes like open pages.
I wonder why this was for the longest time, thought
perhaps it was the noose you tied
around my neck to use as a leash.
Maybe it was because your touch felt like hot ice on my skin?
Or maybe because you are a gun?
A gun load with one bullet in the chamber,
I'm the only one that can spin you,
and with my unluckiness
you go off.
YOU ARE READING
Color Me Gray
PuisiIt's about my life in a way. A lot of my poetry stems from things I go though. And Unfortunately I only update when something makes me generally upset or overjoyed. I'm happy with whatever feed back.
