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Rated: · Poetry · Spiritual · #1520509
On the battlefield healers move disturbed by carnage;yet, they still move forward.
Shaman



I want your skin pressed against mine

But what’s the cost for a pleasure

Distance, a mutation of self

Roles being reversed

Confidence shattered

Obligatory comfort, consoling you

When night falls and just you

And I remain undisturbed

Patch you up only to watch

You walk out into suicide

To be left stained crimson

Drenched in the remnants

Of another’s pain

Words like I disappear

Everything begins with “you”

Against “them”

Never with “us”

How can you protect

This thing growing inside me

When actions are

As false as the words

Lips part, breath moving barely

Body caving inward at each word

“You let me love you, only till”

Constricted, the cold steel cutting in

Shoulders shudder at the breath

“The pain is bearable, eases just enough”

Time stands still

Perfectly still

Until I raise a bloody hand

To wipe sweat shined brow

Painting pale skin

The color of a sunrise

Renewed hope does not

Stem from the twisted

Desire to hold you once more

This alien feeling of security

Drowning out whimpering sounds

The pungent stench of puss,

Blood oozing from those wounds

Eyes drift upward with a smile

Relief as every angry fiber dissolves

Every thread of self returns

Night runs from Apollo

I stand with blood dried

Coating cloth and flesh

And not even that could

Detract from the warmth

Of the dawn taking hold of “me”
© Copyright 2009 Minerva Hana (minerva_hana at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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