The Battle

Life and Love: two absurdist games

You’re meant to lose,

But what happens when it mends, rather than maims?

When you don’t have to choose,

No fingerprint kisses are the same

To cheek or lips or nose or wrist;

When that body doesn’t fit in your frame

To the end of the night, there’s a twist:

‘I’m glad you came.’

Yes, there are words far more strange

In our scope of invisible limits

Out of range-

A scope of time versus kisses

Lower your sights

To the breast and hips and thighs

Tension. Silent. Pulling down your tights.

Looking up with starstruck eyes

Hopes and dreams to blanket star-crossed lovers;

Warmth blossoming or you underneath- a prize

Blooming pale to red under the covers

And the kiss is the first of the spoils

A shooting star across the blanket of heaven’s bower,

Kept for the soldier himself, not the royals-

A gasp and a cry gives complete power.

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