He hides behind a new sea of camouflage
shades of green and brown colors
similar to the terrain he fights on

it’s what he breaths now,
it consumes him
it’s his new norm

he’s killed a man in cold-blood
and strangled another until his last breath
but he won’t let it be told
nor will he ever tell his family
or seven-year-old daughter,

he doesn’t want her dad
to become the enemy.

He sits there alone
in the desert, under the stars
as his camouflage colors
turn into shades of greys and blacks
for he is a man who has lost himself,
behind army lines.

At home,
he imagines
his daughter sitting on the window sill,
waiting for his return and running
down the front stairs and into his arms
before he can make it to the door.

His image shoots warmth through his veins
and into his heart
not…