Your Armor, Milady

Allow Me to be Your armor,

Shiny and strong.

Don Me if you need My layers,

or if You’re wronged,

by cretins or bastards, waging wars,

against the things,

that won My heart and gave me Yours.

No hide buckling,

nor steel plate will bind You with force,

or pinch and sting

Your side, as You mount War’s great horse.

Allow Me to be Your armor,

My Queen – Your King.


© All rights reserved, 2016.

Blogging Poetry

Obol View All →

Obol is a poet and an infrequent writer of prose.

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