fading gray

I killed a man.

Killed him, like a boy

trampling the ground he runs.


How I killed him.

You should have seen

my gun pointed towards him

beneath the breastbone.


He said my touch was winter.

I’ve experienced coldness before.

The last I looked into his eyes,

he looked back through the glass in mine.


His stare, a numbness.

His fading gray eyes.

I shot him without hesitation

and ripped into his chest stealing


his ragged, broke heart. His corpse?

I left that to be.  The last I remember

it was rotting and dead.


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