You Promised.

She drew with her crayon a line in the sand,
thin criss-cross ink on her arms and her hands.

She said to me,
"Honestly,

did you think
you didn't have a chance? "
The barrel of the gun danced

From my eyes, to my chest,
my heart.
This was the end;
Our love fell apart,
Tore us apart.

My legs gave out as I met the ground,
Weary, devilish faces all around,

There to witness my final breath,
But instead they heard,

"I'm not done yet."