Honeymoon - Flash Fiction
She swore it was done when we tossed the last
shovel of dirt on top of the pile. I buried my pride
that night, along with whatever was inside the casket.
I said i'm tired of bending over backwards for you,
just like the gummy bears i used to tear apart as a kid.
You said OK and lit a cigarette. With one last glance at the dirt
I realized that this was no reality for me to live in
and the harm you'd caused shall never be repaired,
so as my hands grip the blood covered shovel for the last time
I raised it to the gods and with a swift flick of the wrist
it hits the back of your head and then it was done.
'I said i'd take you to paradise, didn't I?'