Killer: Emotional ABCs
My killer dance moves
entranced a person wanted
for murder most foul
My killer suit hid
a surprise charged for the bite
a two pronged goodnight
My killer wore black-slacks, boots, tee-shirt, gloves.
Brown hair pulled back in a tail that trailed down
a toned back to a trim waist–no gun love,
no odd bulges, no sign of weapons found.
Beat’s a killer to keep, but I’m chill, my
feet know their steps, need no input, just smiles.
Cops talk in my ear piece, they want a sign
that Lady Death’s come to play at Mile’s.
I’m dead in her sights; she sips scotch on rocks.
Her cold stare declares I’m next; she sucks ice
cubes, her eyes drill bullet holes with the glock
reflected in her eyes, her way to ice
guys who look like her ex, she’s a killer
and she’s gunning for me as a filler.
The beat stutters, stops
bullet to the stereo
people scream and run
I hit the dance floor
breath driven out, fear flattened
Cops chatter too loud
Her dead eyes meet mine
bullet to the head dropped her
Lady Death is gone.
~ ~ ~
This is a fictional account 🙂 The character’s name is withheld to protect his identity.