Her

I love how she is always there for me. In my despair and sorrows. When I need to hold her close, she never denies my longing hands.

Life has never really been the best for me. But I suppose that's just the way the world works. You can't have everything.

I met her on a particularly disappointing day. I caught her out of the corner of my eye, there next to the magazines. I saw her and felt an indescribable warmth. It took an unknown strength I had to go up to her. But I knew, taking her home with me, that things would be alright now. She was the missing piece in the puzzle. 

She's with me every night. My comfort. I knew, no matter how bad my day was, she would be home waiting for me. That holding her in my arms could make the pain go away. 

More often than not I would hold her after the days end. Look at her perfections and imperfections. Her sleekness. Gaze into her eye and see the glint in her pool of black. I could see why men would desire her. I would plant a kiss on her lips and not let go for the longest time, thinking about life.

But in the end I would always let go. I did not have the courage to go any further than a kiss. Tears streaming down my face I would cry myself to sleep every night, with her laying beside me. I guess you can't really give up cowardice.

But on one particularly bad day I made up my mind on my way back from work. I would take the next step.

I burst into my minuscule apartment with a determined mind. I saw her, there, by the coffee table, where I held her this morning. 

Picked her up, looked at her gleaming body. The perfect curve of the trigger. Gazed into her eye, and took comfort in knowing the glint was still there.

I wrapped my lips around her.

And pulled the trigger.