Stone by stone,
stacked with Roman concrete,
the wall must be built.
If I build it,
some part of me will be lost.
If I do not,
some part of me will be crushed.
My own vanity and pride
cannot withstand
the passing whims of others.
If only I could dig a moat
around my heart.
I feel dramatic,
but I will not remain
encumbered
with this nonsense.
I have always longed
to be a warrior,
to fight, to defend that
which I love.
But until this day,
I failed to love my heart.
So I must be a shieldmaiden for it.
To protect myself, yet know
when to raise the gates.
Perhaps I am too immature,
I ask for that which
only comes with time.

At Hinderfall she slept,
a beautiful shieldmaiden,
her bed laden
with fine riches.
In a ring of flames,
she drove all the men
insane,
save one,
a valiant solitary warrior,
who made it
past her watchful sentries
& into her private chambers.

And there
in the moonlight,
he loved her.
Buried fully
to his hilt,
he unloaded into her
with great fury,
with the might
of Thor's Hammer.

Undercover
she did not waver,
nor did she fight him.
She savored
every spasm,
every blow,
with the strength
of Byrnhildr,
genuine
sweet lovers.