“A lady who sets her heart upon a lad in uniform must prepare to change lovers pretty quickly, or her life will be but a sad one.”
― William Makepeace Thackeray,
And everything we passed through, dark and lonely times tinted with beauty and pleasure-the world made sense, it made meaning, but he wanted to give it more meaning.
Beneath my streams of glory and the surface of my bosom, the carvings on my waist to the strands of my hair, he was tender, and gentle, calm and soft, yet violent in a pleasant way. The cracking on my lip, dark red lipstick halfway cleaned, his hands taking every bit of what he felt, I was lost in his paradise. It felt so good till we finally slided in the bed- he was very gentle unlike others days when it seemed as if he didn’t understand the rhythm of my body.
I think about every moment of that day when everything seemed fine, but imperfect- it seemed as if he knew he was never coming back as he adored every part of me like never before. A plain folded sheet placed by my side the next morning- he left a few words “I’d be gone for some time, there’s a war going on…don’t miss me too much”. I squeezed the sheet with anger because he was never always there, his uniform mattered more than I did, his country, his fatherland, and most of all obligations. I smoothed the sheets again and traced the lines of each word with my finger which was still waiting for him to put a ring on.
Six months has gone now, and ‘m here with a child in my womb.Beseeching the soil to let go of my soldier man, I cant get hold of him. The war has come to an end, but does it really end? Arms and guns kill a thousand men,- the war is over-but it’s not ended here as I ‘m still waiting for him to wake up from his grave and tell him that there are beautiful things aside fighting wars—his unborn child, his damsel in distress, his victory and glories he had when the war was over, but he laid low, and still among many other soldiers quiet in a cemetery.