Armistice

Armistice

the borders of the heart
trenches dug about it
filled with spirit-soldiers all in black
rifles discarded in favor of the knife
the light skirmishes of beginnings are
horizon-ranged pinpoint target shots
but heartwars are lost by both up close
with eyes locked as maybe-light fades
from the souls locked together
conjoined twin-flamed twilight twins
connected now by only the bayonets of loss
no dramatic parade of soldierly solemnity
as walking wereguild reminders no cheers
these wars end with silent partings
the blades left buried in each other
blood-pinions for valentined veterans
medal-hanging conveniences
for some stealthy dark-winged seraph
to hang her ribbons on as she lets her
bloodwet hair down and lies near in darkness. Opened door of consciousness
stumble into the world of dream-rewind
I’ll always meet you there, she whispers
but that’s not the sugar of care on her voice
It’s something else.