Give Me Back Those Minutes

It sickens me to talk to you but
Here I am cause
You need to hear a true American story
About a beautiful girl who lost parts of herself in that sandbox you tricked thousands into playing in
She loves Double Stuf Oreos and gentle kisses on her 3rd eyelids
Spontaneous giggly moments and making love
And not necessarily in that order
And me
She's the epitome to my crescendo
But every once in a while we hear a sour note that sounds too much reveille
Arlington Texas ain't Baghdad Iraq
But she still flinches when cars alarm a little too long
Look I know you didn't do it on purpose
But since you like to play God
I need you to reach into your bag and give me back those minutes
When poetic imagery and unfinished buildings butterfly effect her back to 2003
And she can't speak
Her eyes swirl sand like hourglass
And I'm dealing with Pfc. Brown - not Bee
Hopeless cause my kisses can't stop her tremble
I can't spit a love poem loud enough to drown out the mortar bombs
My embrace isn't tight enough to squeeze life back in the battle buddies she watched die
Yea, she made it back from Iraq
But pieces of her subconscience still ended up in body bags
I want you
To erase all the awkwardness I feel because while she was fighting off sargeants and insurgents
I was smoking weed and drinking cheap vodka
Show me the pieces I will never see
Because she can't bear to put her lips together and tell me
George
I know you didn't do it on purpose
But whatever's going on over there ain't bringing our soldier back fully intact
There's some instructions your orders definitely lacked
So for you I order this
That every bowl of Alphabets you eat spells out IED, PTSD, FAKE WMD
That you hear spirits whispering cadence in your dreams
And one day
A grieving relative who's loved one got reduced to a number, or a phrase, or a vegetable
Carves death into your chest before repositioning that ignorant grin you proudly wear between your jugulars
Because that's how much I love her
That's how much we love them
And every moment spent trying to suture close 600 mile wide wounds is a lesson in futility
We don't wanna feel like this
Like nerds fighting off bullies with math problems
Like mothers wanting to kiss away ouchies with no lips
Give us back those minutes
They just add to the seven years you wasted in a winless war
And maybe then we can get some closure
We
Us
The soldiers
The families
The lovers
The friends
And I
Can have my beautiful girl
All to myself