The Queen

Let me tell you a tale about man’s ancient game, of how she loved him but he only played. It’s a game where bishops preach, two knights screech, and rooks beseech for the love of the King who must not be reached. To save his life, they have to risk everything. So how dare that coward call himself a King? He’s a lover in the night and a killer at dawn. In the front line of battle, he treated women like pawns, pawns with less value, pawns who lost their virtue, pawns frozen like a statue when he says, “Goodbye. I met someone new.” And then there was me, another pawn he’s seen but little did he know that this pawn became the Queen. He drove me off the edge until I’ve reached the end of the board. From that moment on, the pawn became a Queen with a crown and a sword, a Queen who regrets, a Queen who forgets, a Queen who stopped to protect, a Queen who left the King for dead. The last words he heard tasted bittersweet like poisonous wine for I whispered to his ear, “I am the Queen and the game is mine.”