I wrote as a plea to be heard. By someone. Anyone. By her...but in the quiet of the night, when love and grief can no longer be shouted down I hear the repressed whispers of knowledge reminding me the woman I long to hear from will never return.
Heroes are expendable. When it was hard she left and never looked back. I'm done being anyone's Hero. I've paid my dues. I want to be a King to a Queen. I'm not disposable. It is her loss.