To The Soldier It’s Always Glass

The bullet feels like it, no?
Cut in a war you didn’t want to fight.

She came, radiant as a sun you never
Never chose to see.
Brimming like a distant flame
On the cusp of a perfection distant;
One you never wanted, or did?

Clean-shaven, you, young too —
Who wouldn’t want you?
She saw you and thought:
“This is the man I want.”

Some would call it love,
Some believe such a thing exists.
For her, it was existence.
A corporeal thing, a body, a

It would only take four years.

~ by Benji on September 30, 2014.

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