Write me.
Scribble me into
your existence.

Craft me the way
I know you’ve
always wanted to.

I can be a commander!
Building up your world
around your feet.

I’ll be your manuscript!
As long as it means
you’ll still read me.

Please,
just warp me at your leisure,
if it means you’ll stay.

To dance through the
negotiations of gods and men,
To pull the strings
tighter than the strings of your dress.

Adrift from hand to hand,
with fingertips soft as leather
and a head as empty as the city,
you delicately play your hand.

God has woven your souls,
or so the legend is told.
But somehow I find you four years later
With another man, and a country to rule.