Dead eyes,
Dead eyes,
Carved out of marble with a pick of fear.
Hollow out my sockets
Cradle my face in your hands
Blacken my fingers in your own.
Please, you cruel, cruel, mistress
Take my heart!
So that I may not feel your touch.
Take my breath,
My voice,
And leave me here.
So that when you are gone
Flowers may sprout from my skull.
Pull your white hands back to your chest
So Asters may sprout from mine.
Let Honeysuckle drip from my mouth
Make a bed of Phlox for me
Wind Columbine down my spine
Plant Goldenrod at my feet
Braid Cardinal Flower through my hair
And with your last, aching touch,
Place an Edelweiss on my breast.
Please, my lady,
You have taken my voice,
My hands,
My eyes.
So please, just do this one more thing for me;
Take my heart,
So that it does not belong to him.
I have seen you murder
In your gown of ghostly white,
And your lips smeared a bloody red.
So please, take me too.
So that I may not have to see them mourn me,
A boy not quite dead,
Cradling his rifle to his chest.
Biting and snapping at all he can reach,
But I cannot kill you.
So this is a poem I wrote for a Band of Brothers OC. There will be more of these to come, and maybe you’ll be able to pick out some characters or even a story.













