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…


need this

I crave this

My primal instinct demands this…



He strikes without warning…

…..and I

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 kissing

No Caressing

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 ….

we flee

he to his queen/ and I to my king


…we are traitors


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