You made our love a game of chess.
You played your moves
while I couldn’t find mine.
You saved your time
while I was running out of it.
You took all my pieces
while I was busy trying to keep my king safe—
leaving only the king behind.
You took everything.
You won, and I lost.
Not because you captured my pieces,
but because I stopped fighting.
The fire in me to protect the king was gone.
I gave up the game
the way you gave up on our love.
I resigned.
You celebrated—
as if we had always been strangers.
Just like that,
a game of chess decided our love.
After the last move,
we became strangers completely.
You moved on
while I sat at the board,
gathering my broken pawns—
not to play again,
but to remember how I loved:
defensively, desperately,
like a king with no kingdom.
Still replaying the game
over and over again.
I lost the moment I lost my queen.
What is a king without his queen?
It was a desperate attempt
to protect my pride—
the ego I had in my skills,
the ego I held as a chess player.
But what I lost
was not just a match—
it was my queen
in the game
and in reality.
Now I simply stare at the board.
The clock keeps ticking,
and I still remember every move
that led to my doom.
But what can I do now?
I am a king with nothing—
just 64 squares
to move on.
Anonymous
Nov 29, 2025
Nov 29, 2025 at 12:43 AM UTC
You made our love a game of chess.
You played your moves
while I couldn’t find mine.
You saved your time
while I was running out of it.
You took all my pieces
while I was busy trying to keep my king safe—
leaving only the king behind.
You took everything.
You won, and I lost.
Not because you captured my pieces,
but because I stopped fighting.
The fire in me to protect the king was gone.
I gave up the game
the way you gave up on our love.
I resigned.
You celebrated—
as if we had always been strangers.
Just like that,
a game of chess decided our love.
After the last move,
we became strangers completely.
You moved on
while I sat at the board,
gathering my broken pawns—
not to play again,
but to remember how I loved:
defensively, desperately,
like a king with no kingdom.
Still replaying the game
over and over again.
I lost the moment I lost my queen.
What is a king without his queen?
It was a desperate attempt
to protect my pride—
the ego I had in my skills,
the ego I held as a chess player.
But what I lost
was not just a match—
it was my queen
in the game
and in reality.
Now I simply stare at the board.
The clock keeps ticking,
and I still remember every move
that led to my doom.
But what can I do now?
I am a king with nothing—
just 64 squares
to move on.
Anonymous