and we laughed
and you became “buns”
forever nicknamed on my heart,
no one else remembers why, nor do I.
By the light of a campfire
sullied by the liquor of wounded days
laughter covered the cries of two children scarred.
We fought our battles apart,
married many band-aids, but healed little,
torn apart by the sins of our fathers.
And now you are dead forever;
they mourn and curse the aftermath
but you and I will laugh again as you soar
in the freedom of the last charade.