I never said this, dear martyr,
but I still remember when you punched
me and pinned me to the wall,
eyes glaring, jaw clenching,
lips curled into a threat.
Left me only
to punch me again.
Watched me spit my dignity.
Everything urged me to leave.
Blood on the nightstand,
hair between your fingers,
ache in my ribs, teeth marks
on my shoulders.
Nobody survives war unscathed.
You lost your heart
on the battlefield, way before
your enemy killed you.
You’re gone, my soldier, and
yet my scars aren’t.
I grieved you long enough to
remember I’m the one
most deserving of grief.
I am the martyr of this war.
I know the scorching white of winter too,
I watched eyes plead for food too,
I listened to bombs decorating
our city borders with limbs too.
I hid in sleep, I ran away
through dreams. I took pills that would
numb memories.
