Conquered

She is the puppeteer and my heart the puppet,

Manipulating every string with expertise,

Plucking away at each string ‘til it gives way to her commands.

There is no release from the self- induced slavery.

All thought and reason tossed carelessly away.

Though the rest of me has died,

My heart beats to keep love alive.

It beats not for itself, but for its next puppeteer.

Once again my heart’s strings are tugged

By an angler pulling in her haul.

She takes one look and tosses my heart back into the sea.

The heart returns to the angler, braving each salvo of rejection.

Love is blind to the truth.

The body is drained of all emotion.

Bloodied, bruised, and mutilated the heart still beats.

It’s rhythm fades away clinging on to the last bit of hope it has.

An angel appears to the pitiful mass of flesh.

She offers to mend the pain my heart has suffered.

I reject it coldly, fearful of losing what little I have.

I refused to let another fill my heart with spears

And rend the remnants of life from my soul.

She was an adamant being of pure intentions,

Not an inkling of malice in her essence.

She gracefully took hold of the worn strings

And commanded my heart with a gentle caress.

Warmth reinvigorated my heart.

My heart was no longer a pawn

 In the cruel witch’s chess game.

Instead, my heart was a beloved figurine,

Meant to be treasured and embraced.