The Metal Man

Her lover's breath was almost too sweet,
his tongue like a necklace warmed by the heat of her breast,
Hot and saccharine and callous as gold,
but she kissed him anyway.

She kissed him, ignoring the dull hum of the movie in the background,
voices and engines and the creaking of doors blending in a cacophony
of white noise.
Only the gunshots broke through,
the bullets piercing through her chest as easily as his heartbeat.

She kissed him like the world was in his mouth.
He had convinced her it was,
when she was spending nights awake wanting to find it.
And as she kissed him, she was searching for the globe so she could have it
herself.

And did she find it?
Or did she not only let him keep his world,
but hand hers over as well?
The master of two earths.
The master of her body.
The master of her heart.

And was he really her lover at all?
Or was that taste not a necklace round her throat,
but a bullet in her brain?