Armor Gone

Every day
You reach out to me
To touch
And unlash the straps
That keep my cuirass
Fastened to my chest

You feel the lines
On my helmet
From scrapes and scraps

And still you’re there
To take my blood iron
Bullets and unchamber them

My weapons
You take and toss aside
Hands brushing mine
And they feel so soft

No wounds or trauma
Have frightened you away

You’d rather wait to be
Able to tend to them

Gunshot wounds
Cuts that soak
Through my clothes

I’m not
A knight in
Shining armor
But I am something

With whatever ammunition
A lover, not a fighter
I sit and let you stitch
My conscious back together

After I’ve been defeated
Time and time again

More armor gone
A helmet removed

And see now that
My face is pockmarked
By shot pellets
Of emotion

Still you do not
Call me scarred

How do I go out
And combat myself
And deserve to come
Back to you

I couldn’t say
How lucky I am
As I sit quietly
And you look at me

With those lovesome
And bandages
In your precious hands

So struck am I
That it’s hard to find
A correct way to
Say thank you

Old blood opens and
You donate your own
To enter the fray
Inside of me

Ever so happy
To be able to be
By you again

Published by Jake Thomas Shaw

Concerned with memory, currency, and destiny, I strive to capture each one as they happen. Join me and consume reality! Radio Reality. City!

One thought on “Armor Gone

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