My nobility struck flawless on the outside; a trait of the great Samaritan.
Perfect sentences. That is what I remember. Delicious tension and perfect sentences.
And we plunged; we plunged without considering I might betray you.
The warrior you fell for used you. Back then, I was invested more in myself than in you. I needed it to be your fault more than I wanted you to heal. I failed to really listen, but I never failed to hear myself. I was in love with my own heart and my own end. Even when I fell on my sword, the great fall left me exactly where I desired to be. I foresee the champion who emerged from that darkness.
I may have doubted my strength during those days, but it has never been in my nature to be defeated.
It was always in yours.
Did I drive you further to your downfall?
Maybe that wasn’t my fault. Maybe I just want credit for whatever end you meet.
Because manipulating you, my solider, is the best thing that ever happened to me.
And thus, I remain the champion, but never the knight.
If I were to confess this in person, I imagine the recipient would say, “I know.”
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