Murder by suicide
And on a day I wonder, I wonder of a blunder on the day I died.
Your gold trimmed gun seemed like a lot of fun for one final moment.
No moment for atonement or to wonder of a needier time.
My time was now and wow what a moment.
His piece in my hand and her cocking her cock.
If I missed she wouldn’t; her grip tightening ‘round her revolver.
Worlds revolving ‘round the revolver as she molested her handle.
The sweetest hand hug I’d ever given.
My hand flew back as the bullet went in.
The sight in my eyes went red.
The pain drifted from the back of my hand after it hit the table.
My trashed face fell towards the trash.
The smell of the plastic bag rushed past me.
No angels, no hell just the smell of the Carpet Fresh in my death.
My final sensory waft.
No sight save beautiful blue eyes as far as time can be.
My minds eye seeing your final glance peering at me.
Your beautiful eyes staring at me intent on closing mine with death.
Nothing like my colorless blunder to not ask if you’d please miss me.
Cowardice moved your gold and silver gun to my hand.
Her thoughts poised for human poison; murder by suicide.