An Officer and a Grunt

It's been over 9 years since you first killed a man. Nine years since the boy  man you called your brother, your best friend, was killed in an explosion at the age of 19, before ever having his first kiss. Nine years since your life changed forever.

It's been nine years since PTSD snuck  barged into our lives. It hit you us all at once with the force of a steam engine, shattering our lives into a thousand pieces. I've worked so hard to glue the pieces back together, and at times we managed to get the puzzle almost figured out, but PTSD is a stealthy bitch. It hides in the corner for months, just long enough to give us a false sense of security. Sometimes it sneaks in slowly, digging a hole of depression that you slide into with the speed of quicksand. Sometimes it hits with no warning, with the speed and intensity of a stick of dynamite. We do our best to avoid it, by avoiding what most people would call life - No cities, or crowds of people. And certainly no office buildings. No loud noises, especially construction sites or fireworks. And we try our best to avoid cars parked on the side of the road.

It's hard to believe that this has been our life for almost a decade. I naively thought that love would conquer all, but PTSD stomps on love and spits in its face. Our love has not given up. It still fights.

But ten years is a long time to fight.

Chronicles of our journey in poetry:
________________________________________________________________
I wish I could put into words
the emotions that sweep over me when we touch,
a liquid sugar flooding me with sweet sensations,
encircling me in a whirlpool filled with
harmonic chords and violins.
I find myself wrapped in silken undertones of vanilla
and orchestral honeys,
infused with subtle remnants of your presence
even long after our last embrace.
________________________________________________________________
I stood on a mountain with my arms outstretched and
I felt the wind caress my skin,
but not your fingers.
I felt the sun kiss my face,
but not your lips.
I felt the vastness of everything surround me,
but not your arms.
And though the wind and the sun and the sky made me feel at peace,
part of me still felt empty.

________________________________________________________________
I see it when I close my eyes,
a flash of white, then red
                                         red
                                                everywhere.
I hear the screams,
("Fuck! Get down!")

feel the sharp sting of shrapnel, 
grains of sand whipping like the bullets through the air. 

I feel you, your chest wet, 
sand-colored uniform dyed with crimson. 

Your voice cries out, screams turning to whispers
as my name struggles to leave your lips

And I sit a thousand miles away,
sipping my latte and wondering what clothes to wear.

_______________________________________________________________

Let me pry that steel blade from your fingertips,
heal your soul with kisses and tears
and save you from those silent screams of loneliness.

Just fall into my arms
where you will find a safe harbour for mending,
a place where crying brings no shame,
and fears and regrets may be unleashed.

Come to me
so that I may cry with you
and wash away everything that was

________________________________________________________

I remember you.
You're the one who loved me
once upon a time
in a life I lived like fairytales
of shining knights on gallant steeds.

Only your horse wasn't white,
and your armour lay soiled with blood and death.

You came to me tired and crying,
battered and torn like the flags of our fathers.
I held you, kept you safe from your nightmares,
and kissed away your fears,
secretly bleeding for you as I fought away your demons.

I lay broken,
shattered by the memories of battle I kept for you,
all the while fighting demons of my own.

and you scorned me and my weaknesses,
running away to find the beautiful princess
you never knew I could be.