She raises her hand
to the level
of her bloodshot eyes
Her grip tightens
on the cold black metal
object in her hand
She squeezes the trigger
With a mini explosion
all of her hatred is released;
hurled at him
in the form of a bullet
Everything turns
to slow motion
As the concussion of sound fades
the room goes silent
A hot smoking shell
hits the floor
near her feet
He slumps over
and places his hands over
this new wound
A wave of shock
rushes over the couple
As his vision darkens
he makes a futile attempt
of holding back
this crimson flow
With the anger flushed
out of her face
it turns pale
She looks more concerned
than him
'I am so sorry' she sobs
All sounds are lost in a vacuum
save that of two
pounding hearts,
His breathing slows and softens
exhale...
inhale...
exhale...
and stops...

In the distance,
a little boys play
is paused as he
hears a second boom
echo through the air

Nick Jankowski

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-broken-home-tragedy-at-the-very-least/