To Death With Love

Nothing lasts forever.
Standing barefoot on broken glass drinking to a once again lonely heart.
“Where will it fade?”
The bathroom stall is etched with rhymes and numbers.
The puke drips from her mouth and the last ash from a drenched cigarette falls towards the throne.
She hates her silence.
Her heart slams fast and hard into her chest.
Tired of playing chase for a breath.
The brass from the bullets are cold and full of forgiveness.
“This has to be the end.
The last shake. He can’t win.”
Her stomach aches match the bruises left on her lip.
The blood bubbles up her throat; she spits at the mirror.
The little darling surely won’t live after he left a foot print to the womb.
The pangs tell her it’s so.
She nods towards the mirror filled with tears and hate.
She walks out of the stall and the silence is now a hum of sweet freedom, stale beer, sweat and lonely hearts spilled together.
The bar light preacher ducks behind his podium as she pulls the trigger.
He falls from his stool clutching his wet neck.
She leans down and whispers, “No more. You are no more.”
She sits and stares into his eyes as the devil licks his soul.
Hollow and unhole the child now lies rotting under towels between her feet.
She cries. Not for him. But for the child now free.
“This was no life for thee. Come back again to another; not me. May God feel shame.”

© Carlson 2013

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