We share a cigarette,
moving closer; inch by inch,
drag by drag. Until his arm
is around my waist,
and he kisses me...
His hands travel to places
of which yours have only dreamed.
Fingers wander over my skin,
brushing away your flags,
your base camps. He plants
kisses down my neck,
scorching out your signature,
as he tries, tries so desperately
in this dark, to claim me.
Over his shoulder, I think
I glimpse you, Shadow,
lurking in the corner
of the courtyard: distraught.
He is on your turf, your territory.
And, for the first time this year,
my heart opens her bleary eyes
to look, inspect this new suitor -
Yet, in the end, she shrinks back
to her safe-house; the one
you built for her. Unclaimed,
uninterested by his attempts.
You see this, know this, and slink
away - your battle won. This time.
Yes, we both know a war is coming;
a usurpation of your claim.
And I will welcome it; its removal,
its relieving of this, my constant pain.