The Smoking Gun

Sleepless nights upon deleted emails
Ignored glances, and screened phone calls

Terrors building under a thinning shell
Threatening to burst and bear all

Pits deep in stomachs hollow with sighs
Shallow breathing, anxious hands, and downward shifted eyes

Reoccurring nightmares of childish indecision
Fueled by raw pain that won't stop living

Beating with a severed heart begging, pleading, crying
Gushing sore wounds asking only why

Cuts so deep they scar the soul wanting simple mercy
Pouring salt from memories that were once happy

Gashes reopen and become infected
From loving memories that were harshly neglected

Boring holes through naive psyches
Smoldering peace of mind, which repair deems unlikely

No longer a game that can simply be won
Beating the opponent by how many ways they are wrong

Seeing as you put your smoking gun
In my suicidal hand