I never asked for this.
You see I opened my hand
To catch a few soothing raindrops
But instead I caught a falling star.
And it burned its way into my palm
Leaving a scar that only we can see.

You stood there,
Helplessly watching the light,
Seeing what hot gas can do
To my all too vulnerable human skin.

And a year later, I’m still broken.
No scar is ever fully healed.
The nerves are twitching
Like a spider’s broken legs
After it is crushed on the sidewalk:

Sometimes they work.
Sometimes I wonder if they exist.
Sometimes they make me want to die.

I thought I could see you
Standing there in front of me.

But when you reached for my scorched hand,
I couldn’t feel your touch.
Because it wasn’t you standing there.

It was an eagle, globe and anchor pin
The size of a man
But as cold and hard
As the steel from which it was spawned.
And your eyes
Vanished behind the world’s harsh war cries.
Your feet soon followed
Walking on foreign soil.

And your hands tried to grasp the bronze eagle
And carry it to safety
As if it were a hatchling dove.
Innocent.
Helpless.
But it caught you in its talons
And carried you away.

And that anchor weighed you down,
Keeping you half a world away

From me

Tears leak from my palms
As the nerves come to life
And show me
Once again

Just how much I needed you.