Haughty words of wine and new lovers frolic on your lips; and fall on me with daggers and Greek fire. To turn my insides to opposition coiled with serpent knots, staying my eyes from slumbering fantasies, for it is retribution who hangs the stars on the night.
I fear you have cut deeper than I had permitted when you set your steel against my ribs; but let me not drink too heavily from the cup of self-pity.
This was not undeserved, earned with pleasantries and ingratitude; but rather double edged words, playing smoke and mirrors to conceal my cowardly suspicions of defeat.
Finally, I have lost my appetite for this ****** game. My armor is worn and blood rusted, exposing the wounds I have been rewarded from years of waging war.
Perhaps there is still redemption from the blood-stains on my sword.