Devon

The relentless, crashing pull of the tide,

an ocean that refuses to be quieted.

It thunders deep against the shore,

a reminder of all that I could be.

And above that salty spray, the atmosphere fills

With that beautiful, breathless shade of blue.

Letting the bluebirds soar from branch to branch 

As it lets us cast our prayers to the open heavens

-Devon-

Weariness clings like a second skin,

a quiet script etched deep into the soul.

Isolation whispers until the heart forgets 

what it used to beg for.

The lungs still draw breath,

but the chest is just an empty room.

A hollow space behind the ribs,

where the pulse used to ache.

-Devon

amidst the silence,

the dead is the only thing that doesn't demand anything from me.

The living require a performance,

a constant, breathless proof of life.

But here, beneath the etched stone

another memory of the past lingers,

and I am allowed to be still.

-Devon

Men who had seen

    their brothers torn apart,

        would simply... exit.

Their bodies remained,

    but their consciousness had fled

        to a place where the screams

            couldn't reach them.

 Drafting the air out of the room

        until the lungs forgot their purpose

            They became vessels of nothing,

                because nothing

                   cannot be broken again.

It was the behavior of a soldier

    who had been wounded so many times

        he had forgotten where the scars began

            and the skin ended.

Devon, Novasxd