Death of The Gunslinger…?
Jenjenalways
03/17/2026

I want to curl up.
I have nothing left for which to fill my cup.

No comfort comes from the sun it is blisteringly cruel and hot.
The fields of roses dead as time has forgot.

The bumps on the path have been many.
Those to love and lessen the dark I have not any.

In the beginning it was destined our paths to cross.
I feel as though all hopes of that are lost.

Where the journey strayed,
Has been a devastating loss for my heart to pay.

To my knees I fall.
The beat in my chest feels as thought it has stalled.

Oh how it burns so icy and cold.
Not like the flames brazen and bold.

To be so numb but the pain is sharp and real.
This wound is the kind I fear will never heal.

Yet in the ashes of my heart lies the tiniest of sparks.
The brain to this gives scathing remarks,

“How dare you let hope kindle?
Your pride and stubbornness cross the line of sinful.

But who am I to resist,
What my friend the heart does persist?â€

I rise from the dust.
The peace and harmony of Your heart I lust.

With each step I take,
The thirst of You I wish to slake.

Subtle but there the essence of roses linger.
Please don’t let me lose my Gunslinger.

Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.