One Day In a Rage

I pointed the barrel of a pistil under the nose of someone I wanted to kill.
All I had to do was squeeze and his head would explode into a mist of red
all over the wall behind him.

He would fall into the realm of oblivion.
Over half of me wanted me to do it.
But the smallest part of me sang out loud.
‘For the love of God don’t pull that  trigger!’
I argued with that voice as I pressed the pistil
between his wide eyes a little harder.

Then placing the barrel underneath his chin  I grinned  wickedly.
I told him ‘You have five seconds to get the fuck out of my house
and three of them are spent.’

He ran out the front door and got in his car and drove away
I sat down in a chair my joints trembling.

I could not tell weather form anger or fear.
Maybe a bit of both.

Half of me disappointed that I did not pull the trigger.