carried out on my shield

if time

is measured out

coffee spoons


then masculinity

is earned in small battles

lost too

but won

And each time

I set foot into the smallest


a room

and the sword of my actions

fits well into my hand

fight without an audience

but goddammit


I do, and the blood goes cold

Sometimes at the thought of it

But what choice do I have?

We know,

Fight with the intention of winning

Or dying in the attempt

I slipped into the world

And my shield came to me

When I leave

I will be

Carried upon it

With your tears drying on my cheek

And the imprint of your lips

Warmer than my skin


One thought on “carried out on my shield

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s