Love

There was a gun in my heart
looking out for someone to love,
and when I saw her it fired,
made an exit wound, and I
wounded her too.
I wanted to have someone
to hurt together with, and someone
to heal together with, so I pulled
her in and our clots and scabs clung
until our flesh knitted, and then we lived
heart to heart, each beat felt two ways.
But she fired her heart point blank,
and now everything is an exit wound.