Have I interrupted?
Did I dare to intrude without knowing
despite the writing on the floor?
I thought I was meant to explore.
I thought there was something more.
But I entered as if my page was unintended.
Have I disrupted?
Should I have known the pieces to play?
You’re shouting “checkmate,”
but I wasn’t aware of my place on the board.
A bleeding heart seems to make you bored
as if my aching was only a distraction.
Am I the martyr?
Did I become the cause to nail up?
The practice in archery dressed as an apple,
and your tells are firing imperfectly perfect.
Whatever disaster I witness in my chest,
you’d rather blame on me and I don’t fight it.
( ❤ Mitch)