I was her champion
once
she told me things,
said all the right lines,
melted me
into her her mold,
then boldly
left me blind,
wounded by
her lack.

And they say
the opposite *** gets burned,
while some treat us
like we don't have any feelings,
like there's a cosmic front,
must be a crusade taking place
against all the ills
laid upon their kind
by dastardly characters.

It's a gender-war
& I'm her dead champion,
a decorated sad veteran,
whose seen the elephant.

I wear a purple heart where
mine once beat, so
I think I'll go mercenary now,
cry my way
behind the scenes,
try the clandestine route
for serious love.