Who can see

The true warrior

As well as I did once?

Who can hold her

Just as I did twice?

Once, the first time

Twice, the last.

I saw nothing

Clear as her,

I know.

I felt the night rain,

Refreshing my face,

Running into old

And new wounds.

I saw, in vision red,

what I now long for

But cannot have.

I saw, in the clarity of

What always is dark,

Her eyes

Which were electric blue,

Burning with life but rarely regret.

The slow curve of her nose,

Down to the edge of her lips,

Which always told me the truth.

And then,

The neck,

On which rested a

Delicate diamond

From the only family

She had left.

She is soft

In the rain,

But her edges remain

Forever sharp

Trying not to harm my heart.