CHECKMATE!

Ah, my dear narcissist, how I love how you underestimated her. She knew the game. You baited, pressed for cracks—and found no break. When your tricks repeated, she got bored and finished it. You made leaving hard, so she became theatrical—not attention, escape. She came with love; you came to ruin mind, heart, spirit. Still, she wears evidence: gold where fire touched her, red where memory has teeth, black where you lived. Silence sharpened. Grace closed. You thought you had the board. She had checkmate.

© Slam Poetry by Lucyalia 2024–2026. Poems are copyrighted. Any use requires credit to @Lucyalia.

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