πππ πππππ πππππ
He found her there,
Red-faced with rue.
With silken hands,
She'd cried her due.
He fired three rounds.
He'd missed but two.
One, found a home,
Her blood ran blue.
He fired one more,
Red ran the hue.
She stilled,
He'd killed.
He chambered another,
And saved it,
For her other lover.
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