Combat

You threw that bomb, some home-made device
of sharp shrapnel and blistering heat
into the house of my life
so now I’m standing in rubble invisible to all
but me and perhaps you
Your war began with salvos of love and passion and
soft tempered whispers
but ended with the devastation of that silent missile
lobbed from across the street with pinpoint accuracy
and calculating precision
Can you blame me if I want to
launch one back?
but I am still holding tight to a broken pacificism
in these shattered ruins
as unwilling to sacrifice you to myself
as you were willing to sacrifice me to you
I am holding tight to a last shred of decency
that you failed to display when you hurled your grenade
into the confines of this bunkered abode
I am holding tight to a love I still feel
in the very essence of my psyche, the core of the soul
a love you exterminated in your own heart
in an instant, an hour, a week, a month
and with your muted projectile sent this place to tumble
into ruin and decay
I love you still despite your stillness and nonchalant violence
I have lost the war and this bloodstained face
This tear-wracked visage
is my trophy and medal of defeat

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