Not a Knight in Shining Armor
I still had your photos
On my wall and chestplate.
For some reason I hadn’t burned them
Until just yesterday.
So many bonfires past.
I won’t forget some of those ashes.
All hooks in the muscles
Moving my mind through punji spikes,
Trapping the trail I would’ve walked
With hazards to my greaves.
No air to my greviances
Of things so chagrined.
How sweet is this wilderness
One not in steel, full fleshed
From the photos. I can see
My stead from your bay window,
Turning only to be locked
In ethereal shackles,
One of many inmates
Your then surface tension
Is a fallacy now clear.
It’s unfortunate I speak mere,
To find out what I think here
All splashed in red ink,
When I had to cross out
Your eyes, because you couldn’t see
How there I was, and how adorned manors were.
It took a couple months to see how little you cared.
All at the expense of a knight in worn armor,
Me standing with my sword in reluctant ‘honor’.
Not letting saddles go, you said the world hadn’t seen
The fervor you declared you felt for me.
Tears fell through my visor as a consequence
Of fluttering wings you let get the best of
Someone I was valiantly shielding
And thought was worth protecting.
All along you said, I was the one who picked you.
All along you said, it was this life you wanted.
Come to find that I was all but lied to
By someone who feared being crossed out.
I was just another sellsword in
That ever spiraling life of yours.
Now all of the photos of memories naught
The wallpaper in my manor once with you fraught
Are scribbled in red, but that, you can’t see,
Because you’re still blind and long dead is me.