Sometimes you’d talk about the firefights.
Sometimes the men you left behind.

You try to erase them all
with booze
with women
with the highest tides.

This time was different.

Humidity forced open the windows,
suffocating you with your 2am thoughts,
replaying on the ceiling,
recalling who you lost.

You took a deep breath.

You named every one of them.
You missed every one of them.
You knew everyone who cried for them too.

You asked me what to do but
I don’t have the words or the right,
how could I ever answer you?

I took a deep breath and offered my paltry advice:
Hold them in your memories,
honor them in your every day.

I held your hand in a solemn silence
with your regrets clinging to the heavy air.