Gun Shy Heart

I stood there, like I did many years ago with my heart pounding it's way out. Choking wasn't an option in this case. A mistake meant death. My head warned me about it the whole way here. In the car, on the phone and in airplanes. Through songs and drugs, between sex and crying it warned me of all of this. But every heart suffers from amnesia. And despite the fact the brain has a firm grip on the steering wheel, well... we all doze off once in a while.

It felt heavier than I remember. Was I as shaky before? A mistake meant death. I became fully aware by the chill running through my hands, along my arms to the tips of my nipples. I set it down and looked back at you in shame and defeat.

I can't.

Your hands met my hips and you turned me back around, pushing up from behind me. I rested back on your chest.

Just relax and hold tightly.

I repeated it like a mantra. Your hands left me there, shivering. Inhaling, I pushed my shoulders back and submitted to the amnesia, and with the exhale I fired two more rounds. I think I've got a gun-shy heart.