Kiss of Death

Your crosshairs
tickle my neck,
as I prepare
for the impact.

My ears scream
for a clue,
but I will be dead
before I hear you.

I feel the heat
from your muzzle,
smell the acrid smoke
of your fragrance

and I wonder which
thought will be my last
as the bullet explodes
into my brain.

The screaming sound:
liquid consciousness
splatters the wall
as your lips leave mine.