by Nick Gisburne
You won’t be safe tonight, with him, or me.
He’ll kill you if he finds you breathing. Run.
I’ll stay. I’ll hide. Get out, but leave the key.
I’ll come to you, tomorrow, when it’s done.
A most unpleasant enemy. Well played.
You picked the blackest apple in the sack.
His criminal associates conveyed
The rumour you would not be coming back.
In doing this for you, I want your word,
Your promise to be faithful, to be mine.
I’m joking. Just imagine it. Absurd.
Your star, confined, constrained, could never shine.
My car is waiting. Trust the driver. Go.
Whoever lives, by morning you will know.
