Rouge
Rouge
His resplendent garb as bright as the moon…
Like the petals of a rose slowly blossoming
A flower of blood upon the white armour blooms
Bursting forth as though a spring morn beckons.
“General,” he murmured, voice feeble, distant,
“Bring your face close.” Lying in my arms, a final order
“Yes, Your Majesty,” my screaming soul
He coughed painfully even more
Daubing his thumb in his abdomen wound, he smiled
“Fearless, I relied on you,
Yet, on a horse with a sword…
I never wanted you by my side, O Warrior Great.”
He smeared my lips with the crimson finger,
“Desired you always,
As the woman you are.”