I sit here
in the dark
lost in thoughts,
torn apart.
There is blood
on my hands
of my foes,
of my friends.
As I look at each finger,
I let memories linger.
Only blood
know my hands –
of my foes,
of my friends.
I am death,
unworthy
of your love,
your mercy.
Yet, you kiss every finger.
Your kind warmth, your breath linger.
I’m still here
in the dark,
but in you
I see light.
about a soldier who is loved tenderly despite his past