It was one moment too late,
but that was all it would take.
When I saw my chance and took that gamble
I just ignored the odds of survival
– I already knew the stakes.
It was one moment too late,
but that was all it would take.
When you pressed your body tight against me,
I said, “Tonight forsake your sanity.
Let’s live before morning breaks.”
It was one moment too late
– our lips found each other.
Words that should have stayed unspoken
betrayed you to this twisted passion
– you loaded the revolver.
I thought I knew how this would end
when I pulled the fucking trigger.
Every lie that brought you closer
was a bullet in the chamber
– I kept spinning the cylinder.
I thought I knew how this would end
because this wasn’t my first game.
But the lust that burned in your eyes
– that willingness to cut all ties
– warned me that your score stood the same.
I should have known how this would end
because I knew what you had done.
You dug six feet and bid farewell
– one last muzzle flash broke the spell
– he’s buried with the smoking gun.
I should have known how this would end
when I pulled the fucking trigger.
But I lost count of all my lies
– we were both too drunk to realize
it was not an empty chamber.
(Written in September, 2017 // J.T., CA)
