There it was.
That sparkle...that ephemeral whisp.
It glimmers on the pool's surface.
Like a full moon?
Like a fist sized diamond?
Like hope?
...yeah.
Like hope.
You're the queen.
He's the pawn.
And who am I?
What have I?
I'd like to think...
I'm the king.
No.
Better yet.
The player.
And in one forfeiture...
placing my finger on his crown to dance a moment with his wobble.
thoughtlessly
whimsically
wantonly
tip
and all the king's men fell with him.
Pierced their throats in surrender at the tragedy that befell their lord.
Fresh out of the box.
Layed neatly in a row.
Steeled for conflict...
and then...
silence.
The light extinguishes
Hello emptiness...did you miss me?
But what of our widowed queen?
Left... pure, virginal, perfect in the ruin.
Not a tear.
Not a smile.
Cold...porcelain.
Unaware?
...
Unmoved.
Such childish thoughts I have
of MAKING her want me...
Of owning... possessing... destroying...
When in truth...
She is but a clay idol...
on an imaginary battleground...
She never was.
She never will be.
And the echoes of the ripples
are my only company.
