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All That Is Left of Me
PTSD
By
Jude Kyrie

I sit in the dark barroom.
The smell of whisky
sings like a dirge.
It’s a room where
hearts go to die.
I know why I am here.
Its my burden.
I know why she left me ….I know why
I remember the wedding.
I pull a creased photo
out of my pocket.
My God she is beautiful.
I must not go there anymore.
I am out of tears
now just the pain stays.
I look at myself in the picture.
So young and handsome.
My uniform white and gold
I am the brave soldier
she always wanted.
We look like movies stars.
Then I went to war
I can still see the carnage.
The roadside bombs
Children bleeding in the streets.
Women crying for dead
husbands and sons.
They followed me home
like ghost.
And when I slept
next to her beautiful body.
They came in my nightmares.
And made me scream
and weep like a child.
I lost my soul
In that war.
And one day
I lost her as well.
The bartender leans forward
and shows her cleavage.
But all I want is another drink.
Perhaps one more
Will stop me thinking.

AUTHORS NOTE

TO ALL WHO SERVED AND SUFFER WITH PTSDw

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