Did I hold his gaze?
He walked towards me with a purpose
Ambling between the tables and chairs
Did the crowd not see him stalking towards me?
Should I control my fingers holding the glass
Any more pressure, and I am sure
It would crackle with my own blood
Washing away the pieces lingering in the air.
The game had been playing for a while.
The spectators unaware of this illusion.
The effort it took, made me swirl
Drowning in my own set trap.
Could I stand through his prowling
Awaiting his descent to my world
Finding the courage to hold his gaze
I need him closer to make my move.
Witnessing his walk, the minutes ticking fast
Surging ahead in time with caution
Lifting my bloody hand to pull the trigger
Watching the bullet slipping from its niche.
There he lay in his vice.
Caught in his own well-laid trap
I had my revenge at last.
None would live, who took my life.
1 comment:
Posts are up!
Post a Comment