heaven won't take me back

we've always had our
ups, and d
. . . . . . o
. . . . . . w
. . . . . . n
. . . . . . s, and our
. . . . . . . . . . . . . on.off.on.offs,
but i needed it to survive
you and our suicidal love,
and you called me angel,
with your liquor scented lips,
and expected me to fall, but
baby, we were catastrophe
in the making and the only way,
we'd ever fall was straight down to
. . . . . . . . . h
. . . . . . . . . e
. . . . . . . . . l
. . . . . . . . . l
and we fought to survive,
but there's no glory in existing,
when we never got the chance to live,
except by faithless midnight sins,
and now you're bl-bl-bleeding tragedy,
but baby, you were the one,
who told me to pull the trigger.

[romeo and juliet never got
an ending quite like ours.]


prompt: angel with a shotgun by the cab
(periods were used to format the poem, please ignore)