we break down each word
we say to each other, and
dissect it and know that it
is pure, and we think that it 
won't hurt us. 

it’s been done already, 
and you were never one
for getting old,

getting the same hand 
over and over. 

then there are your hands,
they're shaking but they are
firm in their decision, as if 
they are trying to tell my hands
that they are not giving up so
easily, that they are still in this
to kill. 

i grab your attention, and 
i think you know that you're caught.
you give me the same “go to hell”
you left me with the last time.

i think you knew it wasn’t
the last time, 
at all.