“Don’t you dare do that again, you stupid son of a bitch.”
Or something like that, maybe? I have no idea! Cas just has to stop trailing seaweed on the carpet, gosh. Bobby’s got guests to entertain these days.
We tilt toward each other like rifles, aimed, cocked, so ready to defend what’s ours
(or seize it instead)
we forget it’s not the blast that kills but the recoil;
Splits you right open, heart exposed, and lungs
thrashing in their cavities like Narcissus
as the waters closed overhead.
I should’ve timed you better,
waited for the space between heartbeats before firing.
I should’ve held you in my sights
And never let go.
But you can’t put the bullet back in the gun
And now I’m ruptured too,
ribs carved with your name spread wide for all to see,
this bloody core still gasping
still trying to take aim
still trying to put things right.
Shoot now. Go ahead.
What are you waiting for?
Are you gonna put me out of my misery—