Blue Soldiers

The kitchen is yellow-grey.
Outside it is softly raining…
Just inside the fog-swallowed picture window you will see
A girl.
The warmest part of her, her palms, purposely embracing her mug of caffeinated dawn.
If you look closely, though,
You would see the empty eyes
The quivering jaw
The lost soul.
Tap into her ears
And you hear nothing but the occasional crackle and shift of her home’s framework.
Follow her gaze and you’d find the same yellow-grey sun as yesterday.
Expose her mind and there,
There’s where you find the white walls
You hear the ideas.
Ideas of dozens of blue soldiers, bitter when chewed, discreet and sweet when swallowed,
Being called to duty,
To somewhere deep in her throat,
To fight the battles inside her.
Battles her heart can take no more.


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