you can never put them back

I took these intimate trophies off the shelf

Because I thought it would help.

But, I shouldn’t have told her.

Now I’m just a has-been, broken-down soldier.

Nothing quite cuts with such a desperate cool

Like golden death begetting the fool.

But, I should have known better.

Now I’m locked in this closet and cannot forget her.

There’s a resplendent naiveté I won’t know again

To complement a callow cowardice of ken.