With just a glance, a twinkle in the eye, my mind wanders with questions that arise.
First, I fight with the Soldier, without permission helmets come off slowly reeking Chaos inside. With every touch and sweet tender kiss, a little rough handling on the hips. The soldier’s armor starts to disable piece by piece, bare and exposed the Chaos grows.
The steel is cast off, a dead weight on the floor,
As hunger ignites and screams out for more.
No longer a soldier, but a soul set ablaze,
Lost in the heat of this desperate haze.
Fingers on the move, a storm in the chest,
the chaos demands we be put to the test.
Every inch is a conquest, a frantic desire,
As we burn in the wreckage of the soldier’s pyre.
Poem memoirs 
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