Untitled (Battle)
Watchful eyes
fade from the scene,
The heart
cannot be contained within.
It leaves you –
it travels forth, ever searching.
I held your
hand; your soft flesh broke mine.
I did not need
to look further for solace
But once again
abandoned to the emptiness,
The one I held
so much longer than I should.
Witless and
alone, lost and so cold;
I gained very
little from the fight, the blood
Of my people
stains my unclean face –
Grease and
grit from my efforts,
Soaked in the
stench of battle.
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