Renaissance [poetry]

Yours Truly, A Jew

Seemingly innocent, if only for a few glances of warmth
My romance lay in the mouth of a German rifle

Yet in a faraway light of decades length,
A butterfly danced to music-
Music, that our eyes sang.

Falling for he who never held me,
It was love in the face of war.

A story written in blood, and sealed with flames
In a barren land that reeked of burnt dreams

For you're a secret,
I dare not confess-

Confess even to my own soul.