you brought your torn body home
the intact walls and interiors
camouflaged the body worn out by war
a corpse misplaced, a corpse that built a home
a young man found death everywhere he looked
he had no greeting for life
his body abandoned everything that reminded him of his pulse
a heart resigned, going through the motions
child, come here, let me put a little death in you
I trusted a man whose soul had been killed
a man who held a blanket
not to warm me but to hide his actions
a blanket that would never become a second skin
a blanket offering too much unseen space
this man never left the battlefield and wanted peace
looked for it in my body, signs of life
that he could reclaim, that wouldn’t fight
back, because I was sure it was love
I felt loved, in the wrong places
something hurts underneath this blanket
you’ve pulled me into your battlefield
and interrupted my language
this isn’t love, this is debris
Croque-Melpomene 