Inspired by S.K. Nicholas’ prose piece Sweetheart

I have worn my armor

so devoutly

buckled on thick titanium plates

donned my Templar helm

until only eyes

only mouth

were visible

let this armor become my prison

a soldier in silent battle

on an empty field


I have treated


my vulnerability

my hidden depths

like a religion

something holy

something sacred

a duty requiring

constant vigilance


I have stood

locked in place

sweat dripping down my back

the heft


of my protection

folding me in half

diminishing me

muffling everything


not contained in this suit of arms

this shiny sarcophagus


Weary of the battle

but full of trepidation

fingers trembling


I start to slowly remove

the pieces

let them fall to my feet

like abandoned religion

rediscover the feel

of sun-baked hair

cool spring breeze against

warm skin

feel of flesh

grasping my hand

the piercing ice water pain

of awakening heart

that reminds me that I breath

that I bleed

pure red rivulets down pale skin

remember what it is like

to be




in all my shattered beauty


© 2017 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All rights Reserved


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s