In a Letter

Work in Progress....very much a rough draft.

Numbed fingers stained crimson,
crease another lie encoded
within shaking loops and curls
hastily applied on battle scared paper.

Shallow words of hope shatter
as she tears away an envelope
smeared in the pestilence of war.
His body is falling with every word,
another bullet finds its withering grave
with every promise of a safe return.
In the name of love he refrains
from the tragedy of war's reality.

Droplets of mud coated
in fellow country mens' blood
defies the laws of gravity
for a moment, measured
in a strained breath, rising towards
the beating sun.
In a passing jets shadow they fall,
resting once more atop another body
lying rigid with attention
as death comes to call.