A Poem for Danny Boy

This is about a woman whose husband comes home from the war with PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder).
Danny ran my fingers across his forearms,
And told me that those were his battle scars,
Bullet wounds shot from the barrel of a razor.

He hasn't been the same,
Since he came home from the war,
And with every trembling,
"I'm going to be okay."
He's slowly falling apart.

Because, Danny doesn't sing anymore,
He still hides from fireworks,
He's taken to breaking razors,
And showing me his scars.

I find it hard to believe,
That he trusts me enough to show me his arms,
But not enough to let me hold him.

And I know he tells me not to worry,
But when he came home,
There was a ghost in his place,
Terror on his face in the shape of a smile.

Danny says, "Everyone who smiles is crazy,
Because smiling is our way of fighting, what isn't there."

On nights when we're alone,
I pull him close and tell him that,
He doesn't have to be scared,
He trembles and asks to be let go.

But I know that one day,
His smile will get the best of him,
I'm just afraid that, if I let go,
That day will come too soon.

He hasn't been the same,
Since he came home from the war,
But, this man is still my husband,
Maybe someday, he'll remember.
Published: 3/29/2014
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