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.
