SIGH

I feel like sighing,
but I have yet to do so.
For the gunshot wound
in the upper right hand
corner of my chest,
makes sighing quite
painful.
I don't have much time left
and there is no real hurry
in dying.
Decaying.
I'm just delaying,
because I can taste the blood now.
Metallic. Clean.
It tastes of utter vitality.
The vitality it once had,
when it was keeping me alive.