carried out on my shield

if time

is measured out

coffee spoons

cigarettes

then masculinity

is earned in small battles

lost too

but won

And each time

I set foot into the smallest

arena

a room

and the sword of my actions

fits well into my hand

fight without an audience

but goddammit

fight

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