So off you go
all proud and gay.
You wave all her
trouble away.
Your smile warms
her worried soul,
as she looks out upon
the June afternoon.
A month later,
there has been an attack.
She becomes addicted to
the news; every paper
is like taking heroine.
The news finally release
that two have died over there.
But which two?
A month goes by
and she hears nothing.
The world has moved
on and the families have
been notified, on the events.
She sits by her faded photo's
and thinks of the time before it all.
Before you went and left her.
Weeks pass and another attack.
This time you were not so lucky.
She now sits and weeps
over long lost time.
Over you, who sleeps in foreign soil.
She watches twilight stars,
come and go for weeks.
She goes to your youth.
She sleeps in your old
truck, and wraps herself
in the smeel of kerosene.
She remembers what you
used to say when you kissed there.
They were Kerosene kisses.
A year later,
and you're gone for sure.
No more sweet June afternoons,
or cold winter mornings.
Just an emptiness inside,
and a want,
for kerosene kisses.
