War

I lay broken, bleeding.
  You step over
 the slivered, tender, fractured pieces
    of my soul
and the burnt and battered shield
        of my dignity
only to kiss my lips
You laid waste to my mind,
laid seige to my being.
 You sowed salt in the fields of
my emotion, poisoned the well of my love.
and yet you ask for the succor of my body
So who, exactly, is the victor
 when I spread my legs
   and allow you inside?