"My Downtrodden Queen"

She is distant...
and worn by experience...

She speaks with hesitation,
...as do I,
...filtering our words...as not to give our true intention.

Honest only in embrace, we touch;
...our speeches of hardships
lie in lips.

...She moves with the grace of a rose petal...torn from its others
on the field of End-All.


Our conversations are short
and to - point of elusion;

we want...not
to know
each other,
but what we've felt in times before.

We play a game,..I know best,
on technology which was our downfall;
...and from this game I know her best.

She moves quickly,
attacking with little thought of defense,
...of consequence.

Tactics, strategy,
she knows nothing of them;

she wishes to win
and only that.


I watch her win, deeply
...to where I no longer share our moments together,

because there will be time for that
when we're parted,
...when we've lost
never again regained;
...given only to lose,
and lost only to dwell on loss.


I love her...more than Man love progress,...
more than Woman love critique.

She was mine
for that moment
in the language we knew:

"To move and argue,


her queen is what she loved,
as she moved her many times;
she 'ttacked to win
and nothing else;
and thus, she knows not love.