Uncontrollable.

Inconsolable.

Ravages of the past.

I take it out on you,

like you were my last.

Never drawing back,

you play my game.

Ever silent, mirroring me,

each touch tame.

You taste like shadow.

I scorch with flame. 

Neither play to win. 

We play to claim.

And just when I’m about 

to take your queen,

you impose your weight, your strength,

reminding me who is king.

But before you claim your prize,

remember: in this game

it is I who shall rise,

dimming your past,

I am your last.