only you hold the gun in your hand

just a flinch. a streak of rage or misguided jealousy. My love blinded the stark reality. Death, in an instance. I can still feel my heart ever so slightly jump as you would slide open that dresser drawer, withdrawing the matte black glock. Your stone cold stare was familiar as you seemingly looked right through me. That same expression you kept with or without a physical weapon in hand. My echoing taunts still linger with each memory, "do it if you're going to do it." That simple. A seemingly fearless response, quite on par at the time. My ignorance only somehow balanced for some unknown reason. I will never know what went through you mind in those handful of times. Solemnly you sat with your finger resting ever so lightly on the trigger, possibly thinking of the safelt and the ease in which there is suddenly no guard or barrier. Maybe you desired power, even more than I constantly relinquished to you. Just the power of taking my life sustained you. Then it occurs to me possibly the weight of that loaded gun brought something else to you. The undeniable balance of a chamber loaded with shells, waiting to be released. That familiar feeling drew you to lost loved ones, losing yourself in the thoughts of their last moments. The power of pulling the trigger of a loaded gun, a single bullet piercing warm, soft flesh and ending someone's all.... I just thank God you never pulled that trigger.

technology

How does it make us seem? I look down at the blinking light and vibrations, glimpsing your name but it's not you. Just another "you", an occasional tease. Quite baffling how so many companions have shared the same first name, along with some alarmingly similar characteristics. All the different lists of reoccurring names, each one with some emotional connection. Some slight, or even holding an undeserving piece of my heart. Reoccurring names. Listed not by desire or significance, but in monotonous alphabetical order, by last name of course. Each triggers a memory; sweet or bitter, rarely perfect notes of the two combined. But what of me, with a name rarely duplicated. Does it more often appear, or must you search for it... do you search for me; will you search just for me? How does it make me seem?

storm of the night

I am temporarily perched on the porch watching the storm roll in. Darkness mysteriously gliding over my head, teasing me as to where it will land. Thunder rattles as the breeze blows away all cares. Life brings good and bad; uncontrollable happenings. Craving balance and fighting desire. White cloud merely blends with rich gray. Such a sever jagged edge between green tips and gray. The turning leaves softly flutter to the ground, like shedding of skin. First vibrant green, then colors of autumn. Soon will be time to bare all; a bland brown. The thunder rolls louder now, the wind sends blonde in a whirl. The leaves that are left blow in a peculiar pattern. Perhaps a rain dance of sorts? Obliging the clouds release their rain, providing for this world once again. Distractingly shielding worlds of things beyond itself.

almost five.

Almost five. My mouth is dry and my head already aching from the wine. I feel in the darkness for the distinguishably soft swish of my dry fit shorts. Making my way for a glass of water I already inhale the scent of fresh brewing coffee from my door. I wonder if insomnia is contagious... Back under the covers I find a pen and my journal had their way with me and were still in bed beside me. My moonlit walk to the beach earlier still lingers. Something so free about crashing waves and a crisp wind rather than typically muggy summer nights. Makes me wonder where I belong.... what is holding me back?