If I let myself feel it, I might never breathe again, but would it really be so bad? To die with her name staining my lips, her smile sewn across my mouth, stitched in among the soft tissue? These are the nights I force my heart to beat. Under stars, I pump my own blood. Easy now...                Steady,                         steady Jupiter guides my hand, my celestial father, lightning giver. And my not quite lover has yet to say a word. A proclamation or dissent. An order to fire from the hip. But I am no gunslinger. I am just a woman with bullets.