All that is left of me
A soldiers PTSD story
by
Jude Kyrie


I sit in the dark barroom.
The smell of whisky and beer
sings like a dirge.
It’s a room where
hearts go to die.

I know why I am here.
Its my burden.
I know why she left me ….I know why
I remember the wedding.
I pull a creased photo
out of my pocket.

My God she is beautiful.
I must not go there anymore.
I am out of tears
now just the pain stays.
I look at myself in the picture.
So young and handsome.

My dress uniform white and gold
I am the brave soldier
she always wanted.
We look like movie stars.

Then I went to war
I can still see the carnage.
The roadside bombs
Children bleeding in the streets.
Women crying for dead
husbands and sons.

They followed me home
like ghost.
And when I slept
next to her beautiful body.
They came in my nightmares.
And made me scream
and weep like a child.

I lost my soul
In that war.
And one day
I lost her as well.

The bartender leans forward
and shows her tempting cleavage.
But all I want is another drink.
Perhaps one more
will take me a place
called oblivion.