Taste

At the point of no return. At the front line with your closest comrades bringing up the rear. With their guns at your back, holding you to your every word. Letting you not falter or give way to fear. Letting you not waiver, knowing God is right here. Battle after battle. Obtained a scar or two. Impossible to wage this war and make it out without a wound. Been just a few moons, since the womb and many more before I lay beneath the sun, well off in a distant time will it be before I lay...engulfed in my winded tomb. So in the meantime...be sure I keep my: Fully loaded; extended clip. Pearl handle, custom made grip. Silver bullets; diamond encrusted, platinum frame. Hairpin trigger; named it Arrow. Fly steady, fly straight. Fly with wind, surprising the distance. Unexpectedly accurate and long. Unknowing just how determined and unknowing just how strong. Raised, poised, posed and steady. Quiet, still, relax, ready. Breathless. Emotional. Palms sweat, clenched teeth. Lost in the calm of a screaming silence. Pulse echoes...from the quiet it drips.