Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

I’m serving them slice of life, if they lived life as a gangster.

We were in the car,
on the run,
from the rabid night that would eat us whole if he caught us,
but you’re gorgeous and resourceful,
always knowing just which back street to pull into.

You kiss me while the cameras roll and the search lights flood the sky,
and I am a guilty girl, wearing an innocent smile on lips that only know how to lie,
so I tell you that it’s all fine,
finding a way to work out how to say that there’s a bullet behind your ear.
I never told you,
and you never stopped smiling.

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