Russian Roulette

Filed Under (Poems) by Noor-ul-ain Noor on 08-08-2007

Russian Roulette

 

The last thing I remember

Is a deathly silence,

And a soft click

Into the still night air.

The cold metal against

My temple,

My blood running hot,

Thudding in my chest,

My hair blowing freely

And prickling my back.

 

The last thing I remember

Is the unsteadiness of my feet,

My grip on the trigger,

My eyes softly blinking,

And the smile on his face.

His half closed eyes,

His mouth slightly open,

His head leaning sideways,

Far from the certainty of death.

 

The last thing I remember

Is smiling back,

And blowing a kiss.

Death seemed an unnatural

Possibility,

Far from our warm bodies,

With our vodka shields,

And our red poker chips

Scattered on the tablecloth,

And the tingle of our last

Drunken kiss

Still so fresh upon our lips.

 

The last things I remember

Are his eyes,

And his lips,

And his hands,

And his hair

Falling over his face

As he looked at my bravado,

So sure that in no time

I would be back in his arms.

We would sleep under the moon,

And watch the sunrise

In the prime of our lives,

Lying in the sand

Under a night sky

Littered with luminous stars.

 

The last thing I remember

Is watching his face,

Pulling the trigger,

And losing all thought.

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