Chess
Kathryn Drey

Just a simple table that acts as a stop. Someone to talk to. Something for the eyes to swap. Somewhere to stay until there is anew.
 

 

The sly coax of a fox and the taming of a shrew. Simple words, all faux in translation. They draw you in, "Take a seat for a second or two." Until it is time to move to the next presentation.
 

 

They give you time. A warm shoulder to rest upon. But, little do you know that getting attached is a crime. It's just a chess game, although you are the pawn.
 

 

You sway to the rhythm in which they play their move. "Come see me now; wait, I'm not ready for you." As if you are the one with something to prove. If only they knew that chess usually requires two.
 

 

They switch sides and continue to cradle the king. You sit in wonder of when your move can begin. The queen moves elegantly, leaving your pawn vulnerable as if hanging on a string. All you think to do to keep the game going is show a little skin.
 

Saving the body of the pawn was never the struggle. Losing the dexterity in the soul was enough for the mind to deteriorate. You wonder how many pieces they have to juggle. Too bad for you, you were the one with the unfortunate fate.
 

 

The king is saved for yet another turn. Your pawn risks the aching pain of the knight's sword draw. It is inevitable now, the strike, nay, the burn. For you recount every word and every move you made as a flaw.
 

 

The move is established, and you sit there, hollow. Your pawn has joined the discarded. The king does not wince upon your achings or see the calamity that is to follow. Your sacrifice was the feelings you left unguarded.
 

 

The game continues as you sit idly by. The only time he comes for you is when he's too bored and resets your piece. You have no reason for the tears you continue to cry. Your heart is only one on lease.
 

 

Didn't anyone tell you? Chess can be played by one. It never had to be two. Just as long as the king has had his fun.