Blogging · Fiction · Prose · stories

Lock and Load…

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She had me in her sights
when I moved to the left,
she did as well,
when I moved to the right,
her finger played on the trigger
readying it,
I stopped dead in my tracks
There was no escaping
no thought of flight, running through
the underbrush,
the hounds, howling and baying
accepting no offers of compromise
she took aim, and claimed
what was rightfully hers

Better to be a prisoner of love
than a trophy on her wall,
stuffed and mounted….

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