The glass shatters over their heads
The bombed men have become shadows of their former selves
Their souls encased within bruises
Within bullet shells
Within creased photographs
They twist the last drops of memory
Out of one another's tales and love stories
That make the darkness a little less pressing
The singed scent of flesh a little farther off
Belt buckles press into melted cement
Seeds of fear sink into their hearts
The broken cement crunches under their boots
They walk as one
As the nightmare has made them
Author notes
I used option 4 and kind of option 2--if you count the relationship between the men in a troop as a "personal relationship"...
A contest entry
- OPTIONS: by sca.
1170 points, ended October 16, 2008, 14 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
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