Always Losing
In a café’s hush, two lovers sit—
pawns trapped in dawn's tight grip.
They clutch thin papers, worn and torn,
proof of love they dare not mourn.
Morality’s guards with dusty boots,
demand their proof or silence suits.
A ring means little, vows mean less,
when loving breath is an offense.
Her blue scarf pins a secret tight,
hiding bruises beneath soft light.
A bandage wraps her bleeding brow—
freedom clipped like falling snow.
We move in shadows, step by step,
each breath a gamble we have kept.
Cold board beneath, watchers near,
whispers cloak the rising fear.
In chess, defeat can bow the fight,
but here, loss burns through the night.
Checkmate stains with whispered cries—
a prison’s echo in our eyes.
A pawn moves slow, yet bold and true,
past threats that lurk in shadows’ hue.
They watch, they wait for one mistake—
we play for love, against the fall.
But wood on wood, in silence speaks—
the breath that endures beyond the creaks.
The board may crack, the night may fall—
yet hope remains the fiercest call.
One step, one move, one vow to free
the love we guard, the dream to be.
Copyright ©
Saeed Koushan
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