Say the girl never wanted to make it.
Say she held her own heart hostage
every time he opened his mouth.
Say she was trigger.
Say she was cliff-edge.
Feet free falling over
dangers waiting out of reach.
Say she jumped: what then?
What do you do with a love that
was always trying to destroy itself?
Say she meant it.
Every word that crafted bullet
holes inside his chest:
What then? What do you do with
a girl always trying to become the gun?
Say it was different back then.
Say the car-crash collision killed.
Say her palms were not decorated
in red. Say her tongue was never
saturated with salt.
Say it wasn’t her fault.
Say it had to end this way.
With her heart torn in two,
with her body becoming dirt.