This poem is dedicated to those who have tried (and often failed) to get the upper hand in controlling relationships.
She stands ready,
Majestic in her resolve.
Drums beat in her ears
And under her silver-chained armor.
Behind a shield
Deployed in the form of a well-crafted smile,
Armament is cocked and fused.
She believes she can survive this onslaught.
Shimmering eyes, hard as river pebbles
Scan for disturbances.
Danger always comes when she appears most confident.
So she waits,
A drop of sweat agitates her scalp
Like a purposeful louse.
The adversary waits also.
He prefers to watch her first from afar --
Assessing her strength,
Inhaling her beauty.
When the time comes
He pretends to lose ground
In the face of her surgically-placed accusations and
She thinks she’s winning.
And it exposes her twin weaknesses of
Compassion and Guilt.
Faced with eliminating him completely,
The Warrior Princess squanders her advantage.
“Are you going to be okay?” she asks.
Finally, the kill.
“No,” he answers.
In victory, one hand travels to her noble cheek
And the other beckons her waist.