No Man's Land

I heard the door

before I heard goodbye.

Funny how a room can change

without a sound inside.

You left your shadow on the wall,

your glass beside the bed.

And one small truth

you never told

was already turning red.

First it felt like a knife

sliding somewhere it shouldn't go,

clean enough I didn't feel it

till I watched the color show.

I still stood there talking

like nothing had been done,

while somewhere underneath me

the first battle had begun.

No sirens.

No warning.

Just smoke along the line.

You don't know you're at war

when the first shot sounds like silence.

Then came the bullet to the chest,

straight through what I believed.

A stone against the side of my head

when I finally tried to see.

Every word became a weapon.

Every memory changed hands.

And the place where we once stood together

became no man's land.

I started counting footsteps

like soldiers in the hall.

Every message was a tripwire,

every photograph a wall.

Your name became a radio

I couldn't switch away,

broadcasting from a country

that had vanished in a day.

Then came the trenches.

Then came the rain.

Then all the quiet little lies

came marching back again.

The knife became a bullet.

The bullet became rain.

The stone became an avalanche

crashing through my brain.

Every promise grew a uniform.

Every kiss took a command.

And the home we built between us

became no man's land.

I didn't want a victory.

I didn't want you to lose.

I just wanted one damn reason

why you made me choose

between believing who you were

and believing what I'd seen.

But wars don't start with armies.

They start beneath the skin.

A border moves an inch—

then another—

then another—

until nobody remembers

where the peace had ever been.

So let the cannons stay silent.

Let the flags fall where they stand.

I've carried enough ammunition

for a war I never planned.

Keep the medals.

Keep the ruins.

Keep the story you defend.

I won't die upon the battlefield

just to prove how this should end.

The knife can keep its scar.

The bullet passed straight through.

The stone has hit the ground.

And the war—

belongs to you.

No more trenches.

No command.

Just footprints leaving

no man's land.

[distant radio static]