DISCIPLE

You were to catch me Am I not your duty? Where was your rage? Hand sewn shrouds Fingers snagged on the silk How they came in hordes Dragged me out into this dreary god-forsaken city A sense of duty a divine command attempts to impress me, laugh, be poised. Tear-stained pillows. How I begged the fates, “Why can’t he be mine?” You set the bar at yourself even 100 suitors not one of them you. And yet, let me guess Enchanted by a witch? A siren song? Or did some goddess promise you the world. Surely my king would never be swayed. Don’t tell me you are on a grand quest of adventure too treacherous for a mere mortal while I am cursed entertaining the drivel of men. Perhaps you are in an epic battle doomed to the bottom of the Ionian Sea Not a chance. Mi corazón I will drag you out of the underworld by your breastplate a sneer into your helm for the audacity to leave me. Not a letter not a prayer your choices You knew distraction as long as any battle. I have yet to know peace. After all this would I recognize the palms you catch me in? How will I know it’s you.

I am not fun, do not insult me with such a fleeting feeling. I am the last dregs of whiskey in the decanter. I am what makes your eyes water, a note held too long in the throat. Allow yourself to feel it. Let the tears overflow. I will guard the study doors as the feeling consumes. I am the chill down your spine before you release. I am the dread that comes when something is forgotten. Allow yourself to find release, my eyes your tether back to this plane, though it is me you have forgotten. I am the altar on which sins are paid. I am dark ocean water, bursting with life beneath the surface. Allow yourself absolution, my tongue tracing the line of blood across your chest, sins now mine, your burden gone. I am not fun. I am your reckoning. I am a loyalty only dreamed of. I am a blade you have been entrusted to wield. Allow yourself the depth: fingertips around the hilt, let the power flow through you. I am not your fun.

“Mi Reina” I will look down at you from my throne without a spark of recognition. I will have the heavy stone doors of the throne room slammed shut behind you. You will feel the finality reverberate in your chest, the danger ringing in your ears. I will return to my chambers and watch our letters burn, a ruby smile against my chalice. I will forget your name as soon as the embers are extinguished, such a short name, really. Your eyes will water from the smoke, “mi Reina” turning to ash in your throat. I will not have you brought to the dungeon. I will not have you taken to the executioner. For no torture is as fitting as bowing to a queen who has already forgotten your name.

She laughed herself to sleep, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. There was no danger from her, a wraith to do his bidding, an assassin, poisoning his enemies. The sweet girl who kissed shoulders is also the devourer of men, a duality he could never see. Take for granted the gentle girl, but fear the assassin guarding his own heart.

Like the carpenter you held the nail for your own cross like a soldier provided vinegar for your own thirst like an overripe berry decaying for your own thorns like an incubus you possessed my body shovel in hand, I watched the earth devour you you’ll never learn the lesson I never passed the sacrament but I folded your shroud you already departed anyway

He said he wanted a queen but who wants to rule over a war ravaged land it’s been burned and turned over so many times He said he wanted a queen but what he’s looking for is an investor one to supply him with linear charts and figures one that cuts his dreams to something much simpler He said he wanted a queen didn’t have the time to keep her a dreamer with beautiful features but he wasn’t even a king. Go figure.

One spoken word and the ships would be ablaze. They’d hear my manic glee across the island, your chest tight with fear, eyes transfixed, watching me smile at the chaos. One spoken word and the ships would be destroyed vessels built for war by my own bloodied hands, without a flicker of trepidation. Ships heavy with the world’s most coveted treasures, resting in the watery depths for you.

Look at you, so afraid to be forgotten, so afraid to be insignificant, in such a rush to be infamous, when it’s words written by me that have made you immortal.