Standing on the field and looking into the night
anxiety and nerves prickle my insides….
I want to get it it over with…
be done with it…
I need this
I crave this
My primal instinct demands this…
He strikes without warning…
am a willing opponent
hungry for battle….
I observe him
condemn him as a traitor
and I am filled
with hatred…with disgust
for his kind….my kind
But in the darkness his skin glistens and Bloodlust consumes me
he is dark and beautiful..
like my king….
the battle will be even sweeter …
I am a traitor too…. and I imagine the face of my king as I attack him
He unsheathes his sword and the battle begins
No Eye Contact
Both propelled by desire
for personal victory
The final throes of the battle
He has lost
his soldiers spent and scattered across the field
We lie on oppisde sides .. enemies across battle lines
He lies in a deathlike stupor as
I marvel at the futility of this war
sudden twangs of guilt at our treason fill us
they slice the thick dead silence
that fills the void between us
Excuses and apologies murmured ….
he to his queen/ and I to my king
…we are traitors