Letter to the Soldier

Love? Yes, yes, just like a feeling for a person, not for food, or for spirits that stand on a shelf and not even a children's toy. Is he? Everyone now thought about someone, or remembered something. Love for his son? No, this is not about love. Namely, about the one whose name is pronounced string! Is there any love? Yes, the eternal and in general the already boring question to everyone! You can at least how much to discuss on this topic, there will be many disputes and misunderstandings. Therefore, I will not say any philosophical thoughts, since many have already been told, and I will be able to fill something up. I just want to show the passage from the letter to the soldier.

"Hello dear. You asked if you forgot, but how can you? You say that you do not remember yourself either? But this is in vain. Well, you remember nothing, I croak you, you in yourself. As on that day. I remember you standing in a uniform, you were many, a man of 500 probably all the same, and you asked what you are different about, so I did not answer, just time would not be enough. And then there was no strength to speak. I've written, read it, maybe you'll remember my own voice.
"Just the smell from you is so special, with a taste of tobacco and tenderness." It's not hard for me to fall in love with him, and they're afraid of you, no one will offend, only if you accidentally hug you, that's what I'm ready to endure. In the evening, the arms are free, and the hands become soft, they are the reflection of your soul. You touch it like a lullaby, it's not terrible to sleep under such a bed, and in the morning, you will not get coffee from you, hand over your face, and you do not wake up, And I have not had a dream for a long time, you became my dream, my nightmare and pleasure I look at you sometimes and I understand, I trust myself, not my lips, not my shoulders, but I trust myself, my soul, and I do not need another one, my lips can kiss everyone, and I want to hold my hand I want to be happy with me and do not hide the tears when it hurts, because I'm nobody, I'm for you. Write in my soul like in a clean notebook, in me will forever be your pain, your joy, everything yours, discharges at the fingertips. In the palm of your hand are already engorged with your prints, and who could break our hands. We do not need rings to prove love, we have common dreams. You found happiness in my arms, and I have a future in your eyes, which out of a thousand soldiers will give out their own. ""

Believe in love or not, it's your business! This is only a letter with smears from the tears in letters, which will squeeze the soldiers, pressing to the heart.