Afterwards
after the wars

when the vodka no longer burns your throat

when your taste buds doesn't care

when there's no warmth left 

when the silence is no longer frightening

when your hands on my body doesn't feel like seven good years and an alien invasion that seemed evil at first but turned out to be goodhearted and soft and familiar to the touch, like a vague memory of a childhood you never knew that you had

Then what? What are you going to do? What do you feel?

nothing

or

is it now

is it now that you are alive

again, finally, for the first time, for real, not at all