A bullet pierced his heart and it all ended there.
No, not the battle
For he was a soldier mere.
The last breath he took had the whiff of his daughter's shampoo
Am I just imagining it all or is this what people really do?
Inhaling their lifetime in that last breath
Content perhaps,then, and they embrace death?
She, who called him not to share trivia every evening
But to ensure that his pulse was still running,
Whose own pulse raced with each ring going uninterrupted
Who, with all her veneer of bravery was still not to this fear adapted
She laid beside him in the pool of blood,
Wearing her hair loose, adorned with a red rose bud.
She will never dial his number now for she has no care,
A bullet pierced his heart and it all ended there.
