"Yes, Sir."
"No, Sir."
Speaking like a machine,
We are the dogs of war.
We haven't the time for airs
And graces.
"Safety off, soldier."
"Shoot to kill."
He says such chilling things
So easily.
Nonetheless, I think I am
In love.
"Kill confirmed."
"Target eliminated."
Eager to please, I live
For the moments where his eyes
Meet mine. They betray the man
Beneath the armour.
"Soldier... May I speak with you,
Off the record?"
He is a gentleman as well
As a killer,
And speaks
So very softly.
"Of course, Paladin.
What is it?"
My heart can scarcely take this.
Am I dreaming - No,
Have I died
And ascended?
"You know what it is...
I'm not good at this sort of thing."
For a man composed of sweat
And testosterone,
He was shy,
Almost meek.
"I love you, Paladin,
More than I can say."
It was both a relief and a struggle
To speak those words, to
Finally get it
Off my chest.
"Excellent. I...
I believe I reciprocate."
He replied, cheeks berry-red.
Unshakeable under gunfire,
It seemed
That he really cared after all.
YOU ARE READING
Refraction.
PoetrySo many aspects, colours and themes make up our experiences. Truly, is anything entirely good or entirely bad? Upon weighing up the positives and negatives of the past, do we not admit that even tragedy is- in a twisted sort of way- advantageous? O...
