The rocks of our gravel crunch under my boots
I am home after months in the battle.
My feet laden weary from a great siege just left,
and the smell of things burned SWirls around me.
Time from the fire and wisps filled with shadows,
I know that the Reaper has touched me.
The blaze left behind should have silenced my heart,
but the touch was too light and my lungs yet do fill.
The front door swings open; you rush to my arms,
ignoring the grime and stench of the smoke.
Off the front line, I am home once again,
but my breath and my mind are confused at the change.
The life and death fight has enshackled my core,
a fist round my heart grasping tightly.
The touch of your hand, a caress of your arm
the press of your belly and the heat in our loins.
Your love whirls about me like light from white sand,
the Reaper's touch fades as your hand shakes its hold.
You pry its dour grip from deep in my soul,
our bodies entwine, your hips pull to mine.
We are two become one, the world as it should be,
and the world I just left misty fading to dust.

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