rage and recovery

guinevere is the hero of this story

i write poetry about lancelot

with his blue, blue eyes

and his crooked smile

and his brilliant laughter,

and i want it to be as simple

as lancelot being the one

that guienivere longs for,

that guienivere dreams about,

but its not that simple.

because arthur is back

with his blonde, blonde hair

and his quick wit

and his strong hands,

and for all the turmoil he caused,

for all the heartache he gave guineviere,

there is something that beckons her,

something that whispers against

the nape of her neck 

like the soft caress of a lover's praise.

but guenivere knows that arthur,

for all his bravado and golden promises,

can not give her the castle of quiet refuge

she so very desperately needs. 

but lancelot's castle may hold

more tricks than salvation,

because while lancelot may stand tall,

with his soft smile and his sure gaze,

there is something underneath those eyes

that makes guenivere wonder

if lancelot has ever known the soft touch

of a pure lover with a kind heart.

and if lancelot does not know the language

of fingertips against tanned skin

and whispers against lips,

then how can he hold the keys

to the castle of refuge that quenivere so desperately needs?

but, guienivere begins to wonder that, perhaps,

lancelot and arthur may not be the problem after all.

because while guienivere is well versed in the art of

pointing fingers and cowering under table cloths,

she is ignorant of the ways of bared hearts 

and honest souls and something softer than the give of flesh.

so maybe there is no castle of refuge

and maybe lancelot and arthur both

are perpetrators of the slights against 

guieniveres fragile heart.

but maybe guienivere's fear and rage and regret

are what is truly keeping the doors of that castle

hidden away from her grasp,

and maybe it's guienivere who needs to learn

how to be a place of salvation all her own,

with or without her knight in shining armour.

maybe then, the choice will be clear,

and guienivere can finally rest 

in the strong, safe arms,

of the prince she deserves,

even if that prince does not know

the creed of the king

or the broad strokes of the knight.