You Made Me A Queen

Professing love in another's riddles

can be neither a promise nor a lie.

I'll deafen my reason to hear the pleasing

and blame myself when the weaker one cries.

I'll let you borrow this on lonely days;

force return the leftovers when you're done.

They are coveted when out of reach,

but bleeding hearts look scary in the sun.

Along with self pity affection appears.

Then why am I the one that's insane?

Confusion should never be called a sin

until it comes at the price of one's pain.

Never a princess, you made me a queen;

just a few inches high with wooden sores.

I'm foolishly glued to this onyx square

and I keep on playing this game of yours.