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Ok so I am no poet. I only dabble in poetry in utmost secrecy.  I am just a person with a major issue with leaving things unfinished. I scribbled the first four lines on a sketchbook in class one day simply because I cannot draw well enough to make any sensible doodles. It took me three months but I FINALLY finished it! This piece has been the sole cause of my excruciating writers’ block lasting the said months. And that is the only reason I’m daring to put this up.  Here goes!

A cruel game of love it goes, cupid once chose to play

He, a dark knight and she, the fair queen - the story came to be

A lonely glance, not one word, consumed all lines drawn

A set of rules, a game of chess and all else in between.

It rained lives on the battlefield, the story goes to say

The stench of hope, a peaceful wind with haunting nightmares to keep

The moon in all his silver glory, bright over the crimson ground

Shone over the knight’s studded sword and the queen’s golden crown.

And soon enough they heard, it’s said, a strange melody in the air

A tune so slow, an eerie steady, much too silent to be

As walls collapsed, a fire so great it tore down the guards of will

The Gods of fate sat far above, conspired in misguided glee

A test of loyalty, a clash of faiths – the story then comes to speak

Of sleepless nights under glittering skies, a tale not meant to be

The gift of choice, a bane so great, the truth so wrong and yet so right

For what is choice but a fanning breeze in a storm when destinies collide.

She felled his castle and bishops too; he, her soldiers and her pride

In a perfect world they’d leave it all but not in here- not black and white.

As each raced towards the other’s king, neither did dare look behind

For what they feared was a ray of hope, a promise of release so divine.

His armour glistened in the sun, the rays danced on his shivering arms

A clash here and a quick swish there, the fair king’s neck under his sword

He caught a glimpse of her golden hair, soon swept away in a tide of victory

“Checkmate!” came a disembodied voice, a voice that quivered with boundless joy

The Gods looked down as they rejoiced in the triumph of scripted destiny

And so it ended, another game, another day, yet another loss

But their little game had changed it all, a divisive kink in the chain of fate

That bend all rules, even those of chess, should such a second choice be made.

Put in shackles with her head still high, she watched him lead the victory march

He, the dark knight and she, the fair queen – the story so came to be

He turned around, a second glance that yet again consumed all lines drawn

For today there were no more games and nothing else left in between.