Gunshot

sunlight falls away until
all we see now
are duvets of fog
and rain
and grey skies

summer dies —
you can see it
leaves fall
the sky turns in early
flushing with rashes
of scarlet and gold

amidst the leaves
my blood pools
dripping dark
over molding leaves and pine cones
the echo of a gunshot
lingers in the air

i’ll survive, the physician tells me
it’s a matter of choice
the choice to get up again
the choice to push through pain
the choice to lie sleepless nights
gasping on my own tears
the choice
to heal

i never said it would be easy, the physician says
stand up, face the darkness
flick on flooding light
yes, reveal where you’ve been hiding
one step at a time
into the great unknown

i never said it would make sense, the physician says
he holds me by the shoulders
rights me, stands me up on my feet
as i quiver with the shock
of a second bullet in my chest

i never said you’d be alone, the physician says
he’s bleeding, crimson dripping
on the freshly fallen leaves
my blood drips from his veins
two marks, one per hand
two marks, one per foot
blood and water flows from his side

i always said i loved you

3 thoughts on “Gunshot”

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