Guns have a recoil. I reminisced the impact in your embrace. You would tell me to aim for center mass, My eyes flinched, banging The heart. I ricocheted into your erection, Trembling from my ass Blinded by a flying bullet case. After using your Ammo, I glanced at you after The shot. Guns don't throb like hearts do. Earlier today, questioned by your friends, telling tales of the green beret. I was berated for saying I want...