ode to a power outage

My neck is bleeding from battle, you are the army nurse.
Pull out the bullets from my skin and rip the guilt out of my lungs.
Claw your cleansing fingertips into my chest,
until you reach scars from the war that I have too often lost to,
the war my friends have too often lost to.
Carry my scavenged navel home, recover my stolen body.
I have been lost to the darkness for so long,
that I need you to rip me at the seams
and let the narrow space between our bodies
become home for the healing light from your touch.

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