Kissed Me Like That
He never kissed me like that,
as if I was the nucleus of his existence
and he breathed solely to be mine.
Under the starless sky they stood
so intimate, their hot breath
kept each other's faces balmy
and fixated on their love,
they didn't notice the danger lurking.
He never kissed me like that;
the raw passion left her emotionless
and caught off guard.
Until, placing her hand behind his head
she returned the favor
tenfold his aggression and ardor,
you knew,
if only for a single moment,
they were happy.
Through the looking glass
I observe him pull a way
and whisper three syllables
in a way he never articulated to me.
If only he had kissed me like that;
then perhaps the silver bullet
wouldn't have penetrated her skull,
and splattered her brains on his jacket.
If only he had kissed me like that,
he wouldn't be screaming
like a pussy,
like a child abandoned by his mother,
like a bitch,
like a puppy whose master had just died.
Incoherently, irrationally,
he sobs her name in vain,
In hopes to revive her heart,
begging her to return to him,
to be strong for him, to live for him.
He collapses
a broken man
into a pool of crimson bile,
soaking himself in her blood.
More gently than a mother
rocks her newborn to slumber
he cradles her limp,
cold carcass to and fro in his arms.
The beauty,
and the humanity,
and the intimacy,
elude me as I stare,
fixatedly, at the patheticness of it all.
She is dead
I response in affirmation
to the caller
whom ruined my moment
of pure sadistic bliss.
He never kissed me like that;
if only he had kissed me like that.
He never kissed me like that,
as if I was the nucleus of his existence
and he breathed solely to be mine.
Under the starless sky they stood
so intimate, their hot breath
kept each other's faces balmy
and fixated on their love,
they didn't notice the danger lurking.
He never kissed me like that;
the raw passion left her emotionless
and caught off guard.
Until, placing her hand behind his head
she returned the favor
tenfold his aggression and ardor,
you knew,
if only for a single moment,
they were happy.
Through the looking glass
I observe him pull a way
and whisper three syllables
in a way he never articulated to me.
If only he had kissed me like that;
then perhaps the silver bullet
wouldn't have penetrated her skull,
and splattered her brains on his jacket.
If only he had kissed me like that,
he wouldn't be screaming
like a pussy,
like a child abandoned by his mother,
like a bitch,
like a puppy whose master had just died.
Incoherently, irrationally,
he sobs her name in vain,
In hopes to revive her heart,
begging her to return to him,
to be strong for him, to live for him.
He collapses
a broken man
into a pool of crimson bile,
soaking himself in her blood.
More gently than a mother
rocks her newborn to slumber
he cradles her limp,
cold carcass to and fro in his arms.
The beauty,
and the humanity,
and the intimacy,
elude me as I stare,
fixatedly, at the patheticness of it all.
She is dead
I response in affirmation
to the caller
whom ruined my moment
of pure sadistic bliss.
He never kissed me like that;
if only he had kissed me like that.