by Author Name Withheld 201

Created on: December 17, 2010

ROMANCING WAR

The art of war is best written as romance
The blood upon your hands, pressed against my heart
And the white light of your soul breaking down the layers of ice within my bones
Your fragile whispers sewing silken sentiments unto the very air we breathe
Kissing crimson lips, thought forms flowing seed
Flesh pressed against flesh; loving, torn, aching
Wounded beauty, bound in union

Where the living and the dead collide, beneath twilight I lay waiting
For my warrior who only fights beneath the black sun's flames within the night
Spilling the blood of our enemies awash across lilies in the valley
Summer flowers spread through dead men's corpses in a maze
Standing silent like solemn snowflakes
Keeping watch atop the battlefield on cloudy days
To me your lips, your kiss, your longing gaze are all as tender as that snow
But to those who curse our love and court your blade, you are as brutal as the cold
How I long for your caress when you are lost within the trenches, far away
Brutality breeds a romance of its own
Calling my heart your only home, the humanity of a nobleman will never fade
Lust for me is burning in your eyes
And a warrior's knowing hands are pressed between my thighs
Sinister the longing, how long you've pressed on
Letting your fingertips trace lines across my naked back, and up my spine
Until you kneel before me, like an angel dreaming
The pure blood within our veins pumping, begging, pleading
Requiems of love, in war-torn wastelands that you wrote
Echo like fresh fallen raindrops in your voice
Your touch and teardrops make my body quiver
And I know that to live and die by your side
Is the only rightful choice my soul can live with
Bare bones, my very essence now exposed
And even though this mortal world has left me jaded
Your strong hands pressed between my lips and thighs have stripped my reservations naked
Look above, where ashes of the dead now rise like forlorn spectres in the sky
Like blood diamonds met with an elegant demise
Strewn through, within and over the milky way at night
The gods of war gaze down upon us, with smiles on their lips they stare
Two white winged, blue eyed devils making love
The passion of lovers with silken ivory skin laid bare
As man and beast alike both fight for purity in war
Honor they are bound by, sacred and ancient truths each is dying for
For there is a warrior in every child, a lost boy in every man
There is a villain in each hero
And for every battle settled, newborn killers and conflict unresolute will rear their heads again
We are monsters with the souls of saints, you say
And to remind me you sign every poem you write in blood
The coldness of death has washed across both our hands
But in your arms it does not matter, I feel only warmth
I drink deeply and dream, I know only of this perfect love

Learn more about this author, Author Name Withheld 201.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.