Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
k-fitzgeraldPoems
can you take my shotgun shells and press them into your ears because i don't think i can stomach them by myself, he says, whispers to me feebly while he plops the heat of skeleton weapons into my hands. i did what he asked, but he never told me his name. and now i am sitting here with gunfire symphonies and no identity to put to the trembling fingers that composed them. did he **** or was he killed? did he love his friend more than himself and is that why he held his ****** hands in his ****** lap and cried, "death love me" ? i am shaking and small-- so was he. i do not know much else of him but that his face was sunshine leather and his eyes were purple in the haze of ****** summer and more than anything he was so terrified; he did not want to eat his shotgun shells alone.
0
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 8:38 PM UTC
he asked me
can you take my shotgun shells and press them into your ears because i don't think i can stomach them by myself, he says, whispers to me feebly while he plops the heat of skeleton weapons into my hands. i did what he asked, but he never told me his name. and now i am sitting here with gunfire symphonies and no identity to put to the trembling fingers that composed them. did he **** or was he killed? did he love his friend more than himself and is that why he held his ****** hands in his ****** lap and cried, "death love me" ? i am shaking and small-- so was he. i do not know much else of him but that his face was sunshine leather and his eyes were purple in the haze of ****** summer and more than anything he was so terrified; he did not want to eat his shotgun shells alone.
some garbage about past life identities.
#war#life#death#past#soldier#vietnam
k-fitzgerald
Written by
k-fitzgerald
21/FTM
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 8:38 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem