#theexile
My sweetest soldier left me and was dragged across the sea
My nights are now silent and my heart is drowned with fear
So, here I cannot stand to be
Through weary nights I held my guard
'till the stars came out to torment me
For, all the beauty of the night was now forever marred
My heart trembled with the candlelight
So I went to seek her chambers,but all was locked and barred
Even whispered words from my dear soldiers could do little to ease my fright
I wrote letters to my sweetest knight with sparkling, savage fury
I fought sleep away with every ounce of my might
Too soon, my hands and eyes grew weary
I filled my pages with stories of beasts we would nevermore fight
my eyes where too full of tears so I could not see clearly
I've lost my dearest companion and the bringer of my light
She sent letters back,of course, and they were wept over with many a tear
For a day, sprigs of goldenrod adorned my collar bright
for a day, at least, I forgot to think of fear
Then I had dreams of feathered serpents wrapped around her throat
her eyes were scratched out by hoary hell-kites and her heart was pierced with a spear
All my daylight hours, and all my nighttime too, to my knight I did devote
We continued writing letters and I lead my soldiers too
no one ever asked of what this did denote
'till fever caught me by my throat and threw my mind askew
My hands shook too violently and ink had streaked my page
In my letters, I tried so hard to have my pain seem subdued
My dear light-bringer needn't fear a fever's shallow rage
She saw through my ruse too quickly and I think she panicked more
I tried to calm her with winged words and locks of sage
I promised her there was a cure
My dreams were fueled by fire and the darkness lurking there
when I woke I fell sobbing to the freezing floor
She would have gathered me in her arms and kept me in her care
Beasts and berserkers set my night under siege
I could only see my sweetest knight scarred by bloodless warfare
Her spirit fell to the mercy of my new-found, thankless liege
My throat was streaked with clawing pain
cups of water I did beseech
bitter liquid assailed my body and bound my fate with chains
I saw my sweetest soldier and her hands skimmed through my hair
Her eyes shined like pearls which I hoped she would retain
Her kisses on my cheeks were so radiant and rare
I knew then never would we be apart
and in my chambers with the firelight there
I could rest with the keeper of my heart
Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 12:24 AM UTC
I left my sweetest soldier to go sailing across the sea
Though flowers bloomed and beetles buzzed
There I could not stand to be
I worked for hours on my island sitting in the west
Plucking feathers and butterfly wings for my king to see
Hypothetical horrors forever clawing at my chest
I received letters from my soldier when the sky was drenched with red
Written in her curled script and adorned in her family's crest
Though her words were gentle they did little to ease my dread
She told tales of made-up magpie dragons waiting at the harbor to whisk me away
Trying to plant seeds of shining thought into my shy head
But all I could see was the ragged beast turning towards his new prey
I sent letters back, of course, laden with pressed flowers
I hoped the goldenrod would reach her by the break of day
For I alone, it seemed, knew of its potential powers
She returned my nervous musings quickly, telling me to cease my fear
Saying that she and her knights were never ones to cower
Still, I wished so desperately that she was near
We exchanged our little letters for months on end
Until one day, things ceased to be so clear
That scratched script was not that of my beloved friend
She insisted it was, in many a letter
But for all her insisting, she could scarcely pretend
I knew her hands did not tremble so like aspen leaves blown by foul weather
I sent her Christmas roses that I knew she couldn’t resist
To catch her eye, I also sent her little white locks of heather
Though, I could only see the metal-forged fennel wrapped around her wrist
If she could hardly write on her own, how is she supposed to defend a king?
She'll try to lead her knights, regardless, and this time the enemy won't miss
Their hated blades will scar her shoulder with only a single swing
I could not think in the daytime and I could not sleep at night
My hands twisted in my sheets, fearing what news her next letter would bring
My mind only saw the beasts and berserkers that she would have to fight
Her letter did not come in the morning and it had not come by noon
I begged the empty air to tell me everything would be all right
But, my only companion in my panicked pacing was the slowly rising moon
It came when I watched butterflies, and I found I could no more pluck their wings for prizes
The writing was not hers and to this I could not attune
I only hoped the letter held no more dark surprises
“My Lady is ill,” or so it read
I scratch at my nails and bite my lips as my fear rises
“She wants to see that exile,” and so it said
I stared at the misplaced paper with the hated script
Though it was only parchment, it sat in my hands like lead
Through my wavering heart had the scribe’s words ripped
I wanted to send my letter quickly, praying I would not be too late
or, at least, I hoped, it would not see her in her crypt
A scribe’s reply was now the only thing I could await.
What traitorous gods tapped the poison from my mind and forced it down her throat?
I ran to the beach in search of some ship, my heart fluttering in a butterfly’s rate
How can I protect her with only the words that I wrote
I pushed through blackberry brambles that ripped my skin and hair
I wished no more to send her just one more final note
I reached the beach to see my soldier’s ship, but no fanfare
“Exile, come not nearer,” I heard the guard say
For all my troubles, I had thought, fate has hardly been fair
“We will take your letter and leave by close of day”
I saw the ship sail towards the sun, away to my friend who is ill
she will be okay
That’s what I tell myself, but some thoughts I can not ****
Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 12:26 AM UTC
Tossing and turning,
she dreams about her time in her hometown
her time with /him/
and the promises that had been severed.
Only when she awakens,
eyes brimming with tears
does she realize that the hand outstretched
towards the other had been gripping
onto the fabric of her sheets.
-- Ｔｈｅ Ｅｘｉｌｅ
Jun 6, 2018
Jun 6, 2018 at 9:29 PM UTC