He found her there,
Red-faced with rue.
With silken hands,
She'd cried her due.
He fired three rounds.
He'd missed but two.
One, found a home,
Her blood ran blue.
He fired one more,
Red ran the hue.
She stilled,
He'd killed.
He chambered another,
And saved it,
For her other lover.
YOU ARE READING
𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐀𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋
PoetryThis love was cast cruel, this love was not kind. But in all, she still loved him. For with him, love was blind. Poems for the damned. If I am to be hurt, then so must you. Copyright © TheFallOfArtemis
