love, masculinity, poetry, women

mere whispers

diamondbear

humble in defeat

to the point

the idea of my being

In such a position

are mere whispers

offered by imaginary enemies

but my victories too

come in various sizes

and some I save for myself

because they are treasures

gathered to be drawn upon

in times when all is chaos

and there is no cave

to offer shelter

i still stand,

on the battlefield

bear my scars like badges of honour

and roar to the old gods

and the ones i’ve made peace with

along the way

and you, my love,

will come to me

kiss the wounds,

the old ones

and the ones you

tried to make

for I am a king

and anyone who tells you

otherwise

I tell you,

Mere whispers

 

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