Typical Abigail's "Shotgun" is about being split in two. The speaker loves someone with their mind, but their heart refuses to follow. That gap sets up a violent scene, where a gunshot seems to beat in time with the speaker's pulse.
The speaker first imagines a noble act: jumping in front of the bullet to save the other person and keep their own dignity. Then comes the twist. The one person they would give their life for is the one holding the trigger. The final lines are blunt and chilling. The other person falls, and the speaker's shotgun drops too.
It's hard to say whether the shooting is literal or a metaphor for a painful ending, and the poem leaves that open. Either way, the mood is tense, numb, and tragic. The short lines make the speaker sound stunned, as if they can only watch what they have done.