When his lips touched my forehead, I wish you were there to see the way his eyes gazed on my face.
They way you used to.
But, I think you were there.
Maybe you weren’t, but seeing you I feel like you know...
You know that I don’t go to bed thinking about you anymore, but him, and myself and so many great things.
I can see that you feel lost and confused, maybe I should feel some guilt, and I do.
But you did it to yourself sweetheart.
You broke me
You left me in my tight silk gown
In my caked makeup
In my stiff hair
Staring off into a gray wall letting your words hit me like a semi truck
but I didn’t flinch a muscle.
So why should I feel guilt…
I’m happy.
On my own,
Not because of some new boy
Because I am now my own.
I hold my own lock and key
You dropped me when my wings became cramp and you couldn’t see the beautiful dove you fell in love with
And now I’m flying, flying higher than ever
and you want me again
But darling,
I found another bird to fly with
Who lifts me above him
Who doesn’t call me princess, but my name
Which I prefer more
Because it’s me
How many other girls are called princess?
How many girls have you called princess?
I don’t want to be a princess.
I am a warrior.
I’m my own knight in shining armor
And now I have that and more.
I’m not a nameless girl in her smeared makeup at a pancake house at 2 am
I’m a bird, The Bird.
And I can fly high
You can’t clip my wings now, sweetheart
I broke free of your grasp
And now I’m here for myself.

Holding him in my arms.
I don’t know his name.
He wasn’t in my unit.
He was just another face smeared with blood, sweat, dirt and god knows what else.
He would end up being another boy going back home to his mom, but not at her door step with flowers and balloons.
But at her door step in a brown box, followed by wilting flowers and cards, that she never wanted to get.

My ears have become numb to the screaming, piercing through the smoke, caused by the  bombs dropping around me.
Now I’m focused on his brown eyes.
His eyes were the color of rich soil. The power of life surging through it, yet only if the sun shines on it perfectly.
But, by God, there is no sun shining today.
His brown eyes.
His brown eyes of determination.
The eyes that followed the stroke of his hand when he signed up for this.
The eyes that scanned his families face one last time before he boarded the plane.
The eyes that won’t be there for his mother in comfort when the sergeant comes knocking on her door.
The eyes that won’t see her collapse on the floor, cursing God for letting her son go. Were her prayers never heard?

I look down from his eyes, once full of warmth, now stone cold, like the Statue of Liberty on a January day in Manhattan.
He wears a gold cross around his neck. I’ve never been religious but I say a prayer to the Big Man in the clouds for him.

These green and brown colors that cover his body, like mine, are normal. Once they kick you off that helicopter, the day when you are hit with the fact that this is real, they seem to give you a pair of goggles that changed your vision to brown and green. To make you block out the real world.
As if you would forget it.
But you do.

I don’t know how long I’ve been here, but long enough to hear a booming voice screaming “Get the hell out of here!” I don’t know if it was God or my lieutenant, but I didn’t move a muscle.
I sat there continuing to hold this boy, this man. He seemed no more than 20 years old, yet he was driven to serve and his years were cut short. Too short.

All of the sudden an arm grabbed ahold of me and yanked me away. Screaming into my hear something I can’t comprehend. My legs follows but my eyes continue to be locked on the motionless body.

I didn’t even know his name.