"This time were not giving up."
two forty-fives cocked.
"Sweety, it looks like we're surrounded."
a flood of cop cars envelope us
helicopters hovering overhead
severing our hopes of a getaway like strings cut from a school girls birthday balloon.
"We're not getting out of this one alive."
A police man pulls out a megaphone behind the refuge of his creme colored patrol car.
"Drop your weapons. We have you surrounded."
I lock eyes with my sweety, hearts beating, beads of sweat retreating down my face.
she reads my thought.
we pause a moment
unleash a hailstorm of bullets.
the patrolmen return fire, pumping us with pounds of gunfire.
a bullet pierces my chest.
i look to my sweetheart, hands still interlocked.
her eye catches mine before my face fractures against the cold concrete floor.
our final thoughts ring out in unison.
"We are not giving up.
It's us against the world."