Before I could lift my skirts
and put my battle scars on display,
you decided that I needed
saving.

But strength and a heart
that thrives on perseverance
does not a grateful victim
make.

Moonlight catches on your sword
as you slice through the night,
defending your denial
‘til you go to your chivalrous grave.

In the morning, you’ll come up from behind
after I’ve bandaged my wounds,
and draw me into your embrace
with a loving murmur of
“you’re safe now.”

In vengeance,
I will rust your spotless armor
until you can no longer
call yourself the hero of my story.