A true romance,
Blossoming in the summer,
Braving the winter,
Flourishing in the spring,
A picture of passion,
A fine target,
The shotgun is cocked.
A touch of ire,
A whisper of infidelity,
A glimmer of adultery,
All are pulls of the trigger,
A pair of hearts are the targets,
Lined up to be executed,
A true romance no more.
A quarrel,
A kiss,
A flash,
Then silence,
The burst ribcage of love,
And heart-shaped gore,
Are all that remain.
Advertisements
Reblogged this on WorldofHarley and commented:
Shotgun Romance
[…] poem about the horrors of fascism. Night Sky – A poem about my adoration of the night. Shotgun Romance – A twisted poem about love. Sorcery – A poem about the magic of our own potential. […]