There in that little room we sit,
Gun intimidating on the mahogany table,
Our eyes are locked as you reach for it;
My heart feverishly pounds as hard as it is able.
Your hand shakes as you grasp the cold metal,
It trembles as you rest it upon your temple,
Tears stream down your flushed cheeks
Your finger squeezes the trigger...
Nothing.
A relieved, shaky breath blows out of your lungs,
You set it down in front of me,
Eyes swimming with unreadable emotions
As you stare at me encouragingly.
My throat burns as I hold in my panic,
I smile widely at you, seemingly manic;
Inside I quiver in fear and disgust
But this curiosity has me obsessed.
I slide it into my hand, it's mildly warm and calming,
My fear swims away with the breath I take
And though my stomach is reeling,
My hands no longer shake.
I press the gun to my head and close my eyes,
My finger twitching on the trigger, I sigh
Pulling it gently, then harder
The gun burst louder than before.
I felt a stab of pain then it went dark,
The last thing I heard was your scream;
Guess it was a dangerous game from the start,
But I wanted this more than it seemed.
