I was playing with words and he got stuck in them
I knew the craft of meaning making
He was too blind
With river eyes and saltbeds of skin
He never asked me why
I then played with a gun and he got killed almost
I relished the skill of slaughter
He was too kind, again

He held my wrist not to wring it
Asked himself "why did I bring it?"
The gun was thrown away
I took him to the bedroom and locked him inside, I was bored
Closed the doors on his face, so cute
Why didn't he hate me then?
I wish he were a brute
I tossed the keys into the fireplace
Read a book for fun
Ended up breaking in through the window
Our life has just begun.