"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,
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
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;
she knows not love.