Kings Pyre Poem by Jeremy Willson

My heart is soft like playdough it will mold into anything
The right touch built us a castle where I was king
You were queen, treated as the apple of my eye
Worth more to me than land, silver, gold, grain, or rye
I'd starve to death if you were able to live and survive
However, my mind is not as soft it's a sharpened knife
You destroyed my heart, tore down the walls of my castle
Took what you wanted, believing you'd made my mind dull
You were mistaken, I might not have been what you wanted
But surely I was more than you deserved, I hated
I tried not to I really did because it hurt me
I thought that meant it had mattered, but now I plainly see
It didn't, because I still hate, I hate that I ever loved you
I shouldn't say it to your face because I know my words
They are spears to your side, they'd cut deeper than swords
Deeper than the scars you are so proud of for some reason
Even though to me they were the highest actions of treason
Going against the kings wishes and command
Against my decrees and where I stand
You are nothing to me, even if once you were everything
You were at my right hand, my counsel, my shadow ruler
I am a Lord King who was merely a fool to her
I should have been valued but I was not
Now she begs for what I once sought
Love from an unrequited
She shall find my mind to be indebted
She dulled one side and so I sharpened the other
It's retorts to her words are daggers to her skin
And my tongue would make her bleed out but again
Only this time it would be the last
So I say nothing, I shall leave it in the ashes of the past
A grave yard, a pyre for the once damned and lost king
Half of my heart and mind is this funerals cost so I sing
Of the days ahead forged in bitter sweet content
That should be seen as divine, as though Heaven sent
Bringing me a never ending peace
And setting my mind forever at ease