rage and recovery

man the defenses (you will not break me)

my scars covered me like armor

and the sharp edges of my words

cut anyone who came too close

but hiding is hard and fighting is tiring

and when you've taken twenty trips around the sun

you begin to wonder what it would be like

to pull back the swords and the walls

and let their boots track mud into your chest.

so you call for a retreat and you lower the defenses

you leave your castle vulnerable

on the off chance they'll be gentle with priceless possessions

but men of flesh and sorrow know no gentleness

and their boots track more than mud

into the heart of your throne

you take their disregard for clumsiness

and you try to extend a soft palm to them

but men of gluttony and pride know no friend

and their words cut deeper than any sword

in your own arsenal

but by this time the sun has already set

and he is trapped in the gates until morning

you made his bed with duck feather pillows

and a soft candle on the dresser

and you follow closely behind his hulking frame

timid, fearful, wary in the walls of your own building

he does not look at you when he shuts the door in your face

the loud rattling of the frame sharp in your ears

you stand and you stare at the place you called your own

the castle you built from the rubble

the sanctuary for your deepest thoughts

and you watch as the walls shake

and you listen as the priceless artifacts shatter and break

but you do nothing

your only comfort in this fear is

the steady and gentle sound of the water lapping against the moat

when morning comes, the walls ache to stand tall once more

but you still crave the warmth of another body

no matter how he disrespects the thing you hold dear

but when you reach his quarters

when you see the chamber you carefully arranged

it is empty

there is nothing but muddy footprints and broken picture frames

and the flapping of the curtain in the wind

his blundering hands tore apart

the product of careful hands

and a part of you screams to call the guards

and man the defenses

but instead, you crumble to your knees in the mud and glass

and you wonder why men always come in the form of hurricanes

and leave like ghosts in the night