The trenches dug into the skin of my arms and my legs are mere reminders of the war that has been and is going.
The endless struggle that only gets harder as my resources and aid dwindles.
Such aid covers all help from once enthusiastic friends, eager to be the hero to redeem the guilt they feel when they talk behind my back.
Fragility is what they describe when they explain to outsiders their reasons for not telling me to my face.
"One push is all she needs before she jumps by herself"
"Of course police officer, I knew nothing about how badly she was coping, we're all devastated" they would tell the media.

The burning the cuts leave on my skin is a mere reminder of the fervour that once lit the veins that circled my body.
The throbbing is what my heart felt at the thought of you.
I have to replace what I miss, surely? And I will not deny the privilege of someone else who wants my love.
Though a part of that is missing.
Maybe it left with the blood that trickled from my wounds.

Yesterday, I didn't think of you until 12:25pm when I had 35 minutes left at work.
Of course I'd had the flitting thoughts,
the feel of your name as it buzzed in my brain,
but it took me 4 hours and 30 minutes of being awake until I felt the body shattering memory of your kiss and your love.
Maybe the sadness is making me slow
and perhaps that is why I now can't remember what it was I thought of.
But my shoulders sagged and I knew if I didn't get out quickly, I wouldn't get out at all.

The magic of three
gives the power to he,
The almighty brawl
feared by all,
His desire for sweet
in the blistering heat
only adds to his ambition.

Do not get in his way
or you shall pay,
Just stand very still,
do not try to ****
No matter who you are,
you are a soldier of war
and if you are brave, you are foolish.