Julian Martin

Still

Still.
I focus on the words,
They don’t seem to matter
Unscathed from the battle but hurt by what he saw
I know what happens.
You can try to explain to me
How bad it was,
It wouldn’t change a thing.

See… A man died on that battlefield
His blood runs cold, only ever warm from contempt
They say it was a suicide
They say he ran in front of bullets.
Time and time again
Exposed and wounded, he asks for a truce
He knows of no way to win

I know.. I know. he left himself exposed
A fool to think he could survive all those bullets
But his reasons… Neither life nor death
Maybe he wanted to feel?
To fall back as the worries dissipate?
He was smiling,

Whenever worried
He found me.
I’ve tried to embrace him, to acknowledge.
I shake.
Still... He’s unfamiliar, so I run.
Why’s he so persistent?
Still… hands in the air
I fall back.

He runs to me.
Tries to make eye contact, but I close mine
I just want to listen, but it wouldn’t change a thing.
How bad it was..
I know what happened, it hurts.
But you insist I let go.
Let me listen.
He walks away. Regret in his eyes,
My blood
Still...
Warm.
Wed, 10 Apr 2019 07:24 pm
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