Trigger

Betrayal and derision
Were the bullets in your gun,
And you shot with the skill and precision
Of a seasoned marksman.
But just as I was expiring
on the edge of existence,
You decided that the sea
Would not carry me
Off to a diluted heaven.
You brought me back,
Back in the lonely tower,
Where you fed me lies, coated in sugary syllables,
Pretending they were medicine.
You rubbed salt in to my wounds as you stitched them shut.

I needed rest.
While I slept,
You blocked off paths
that might have led to another's hospitality.

Demons were outside the window.
They watched as I suffered,
Hoping I would die.
But I could not.

Slowly, painfully,
I recovered.
You sometimes check my vital signs.

I am held together,
But never whole.
You never could remove that one last bullet,
Can't heal the hole in my heart.