Take me back to 1945
To putting our armour down,
To burying our dead by the river
Beneath all those bridges we’re rebuilding.
To learning that the blood washes off,
And to relearning what our skin looks like underneath it.
To the battle wounds becoming faded bruises
And only hurting when you poke them.
Take me back to 1945
When we meet to form a peace treaty,
Wearing our hearts on our sleeves
And our daggers in their sheaths
In a room of white flags where your familiar laughter finds its home,
Echoing around the walls.
All the bombs have been dropped, and we surrender, and above the rubble, the sun also rises. The radio screams IT’S OVER WAR IS OVER, and people dance in the streets, and we ourselves dance in the streets, and today goes down in the history books.
You hand me the peace treaty and you smile at me as I sign on the dotted line.
I’m in love with this new golden age.
I love not fighting with you.
About the Creator
Lauren Poole
18 // Languages at the University of Manchester // Writer
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