No Mysteries

[There's poetry here, but the context is so sparse that there's barely any way for anyone but me to see it. I've tended to assume that the reader can detect my brilliance shining between the lines of my writing, even when I've barely provided any lines at all. How annoying.]

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I don't even know who I like less
You or me

- "Mysteries" by Yeah Yeah Yeahs

“I want to cause you more pain than you’ve ever felt,” he said.
“Fair enough,” she said.

Magically, she could taste everything: the molten liquor of adrenaline, the swirling saltiness of fear, the spiced chocolate of passion, and a vague but strong bitterness. She tasted the threadbare carpet below her feet and the hushed air above her head; with her navel, she tasted steel.

They stood nose-to-nose, iris-to-iris. Their eyes were the same color, a greenish blue found in choppy ocean waters. The duel of their minds left little to be said aloud.

When the gun trembled in his hand, just once, she felt a sweet and sour taste that she didn’t understand. His eyes revealed nothing as he steadied himself with icy resignation. She inhaled and he exhaled. Both of their watches had stopped.

He pulled the trigger. She was flooded with the taste of water. Lead met bile, love met hate.