"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 and empathy
lying in connected lips.

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

Our conversations are short
and to the point of elusion;
we want not to know each other,
but what we have felt in times before.

We play a game I know best
on a technology which is to be 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 in deep reflection
to the point where I no longer appreciate
the moments we are together,
...because there will be time for that
when we are parted,
when things are lost
never to be regained
-given only to lose
and lost only to dwell on loss.

She is my one and only, my love,
and I love her
...more than Man loves progress,
more than Woman loves critique.

She was mine, and I, hers;
we were together if only for that moment.
And how still I think of our conversation
in the language I knew best
-from a board of 64,
each move an argument
for our together.

I won, but we both lost.

See, her queen is what she loved,
as she moved her many times;
she attacked to win and nothing else;

and thus,
she knows not love.