Counterplay {{revised}}

NOTE TO READERS: I've revised it. Let me know what you think.
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It was two AM when I approached your door,
With my keys and purse clutched tightly in my hand,
And over-used body thrown to the floor,
Looking hopelessly at my only escape...

Him.

He scooped me up in his tireless arms,
And carried me to the couch,
Fetched me my favorite drink,
And settled beside me in a slouch.

His golden, green eyes gazed,
As if he carried a burden of pain,
Looked at me with pity,
Because of tears that remained.

With a sigh he whispered,
"Okay, you got me,
What else do you want,
What do you want to see?"

With a smirk I returned the gaze;
I knew exactly what I wanted,
I wanted Her dead,
To feel more than just taunted.

Teary eyes sparkled now,
As he held my hands in his;
We closed our eyes naturally,
Knowing that old ritual of The Whiz.

Visions ran through his mind
Imitating a 70's film strip,
Showing me every scene,
Of what was to come in a zip.

The stoke of the blade gently caressing
My mother's golden neck,
Blood slowing trickling down;
Before I withdraw I leave a peck.

Such a rush I feel within my veins,
As I experience the final scene,
Laughing to myself as curtains close,
All dependence weaned.