Unfit, Yet Carried

They called her weak; I called her flame.  
Disposable—she wore that shame.  
Fate left her cracked on alien stone;  
Her warriors fled; she lay alone.  

I was half-dead, yet found my spine;  
I lifted her; I made her mine.  
We crossed poison sands, lungs in debt;  
Through fire-tempest—still, I set.  

Past empire bones, we learned to bleed;  
Survival shifted into need.  
Trust grew fanged; loyalty took flight;  
Love came midnight, not polite.  

I never let her leave my back;  
I kept my vow in starless black.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2026

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Daniel Avatar
August 7, 2026 at 2:45 AM
A beautiful sonnet, Jeremy, welcome to Poetry Soup😊
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