One False Move (Poetry)

The barrel at her temple’s cold
grey steel pressed close to blushing skin
her heart beats young — the passion’s old
since time’s unravelled everything.

While reason falters fear slow-burns
inertia rules — threats hang unsaid
the ghost of freedom aches and yearns
but one false move and hope lies dead.

One false move and love is lost
she braves the bullet’s searing kiss
for every action has its cost
and truth’s the gun not aimed to miss.