Checkmate - K.G.
Drawn like moths to a flame;
Affixed at the hip.
Pitted against one another,
As we play the game of love.
My knight in shining armor.
I was once your queen, you my king;
Pawns of an ill-fated love.
Now, our audience of bishops and rooks
Regards us with pity and helplessness
As we remove the pieces that no longer fit.
Hopeless sacrifices leading to a stalemate.
You inch closer to your final attack.
But worry not for me,
For I have an ace up my sleeve,
Upon which the heart that bleeds for you rests.