If the water in my eyes is any indication of the anger in your smile,
Then you should have been the hunter and I the deer.
Shot like the Black Hawk; down, down, obliterated and disintegrated–all hope lost.
If love is the enemy could hate be the escape?
Could I excuse the signs and lock all exit doors?
If shame was the grand plan, then my destiny is sealed, stamped, and addressed, set to go.