In My Arms

I never sought to be a protector of peace- I just never cared enough to discriminate between evil men and good men. Or women. Or children. When there are so many more evil men in the world it’s bound to work out that way. Good and evil mattered to me about as much how the rope happens to break to a man on the gallows.

In a moment of reflection my memory played for me a scene of magnificent destruction. The voices of the unlucky ones screamed a melody of transcendence- the kind melody that seems to answer the most difficult questions of men. As their bodies grew rapidly weaker, their songs became accordingly more profound until the last breath brought the moment to a deafening resolution. I stood intently, the weight of the beauty shared by me and the revolver which held my hand so softly. And as we stared at each other in that moment of attachment I brought her closer until her lips met mine. Still in my arms I squeezed with anticipation on the brink of eternity. But…

…Nothing. The shell was empty. My heart was empty. 

My mind went blank. 

-Nem

  

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