You found me when I was broken,
sharp protruding bits and
Running your fingers down my
you watched, mesmerized,
as the blood pooled in the crevices
of your skin.
Attracted to the danger, you soon
to the pain.
You loved the way the light
refracted against the
shattered glass of
and so you endeavored
to break it again
You glance my way and
a wild stampede of heartbeats
escapes from within the cage
of my ribs. I cannot seem
to corral my thoughts, they ride
freely upon the rushing horde—
do I hold your gaze or look away?
You laugh at something your
companion says, flashing straight
white teeth like the picket fence
around the garden in my
memories, where we picked sugar
snap peas during lazy summer
afternoons. I catch my breath
and look away, attempt to calm
the trembling of my limbs.
Everyone has heard of the damsel in distress who was saved by a knight in shining armor, but why does no one tell the tale of the knight? Why don’t we know about the demons he had to overcome and the distress and failures he encountered along the way? What treacherous path was he forced upon that gave him no recourse but to become the hero of the story? Perhaps because these are the parts that are unromantic, and so, people are simply not interested in hearing about that part of the story.
Sometimes we wait so hard for someone to sweep into our life and save us that it takes far too long to realize that we are, in fact, responsible for saving our own damn selves. When does one start to realize that they are the knight in the story? That the plight of the princess is so unrealistic that it does little girls everywhere a grave injustice in teaching them to rely on someone to rescue them. That the line between good and bad is sometimes so blurry that you can’t distinguish one from the other. That people are not necessarily against you, they are simply for their own selves, and that indifference can cut deeper than a well-placed sword.
When does one start to understand who the true unsung hero of the story is?
Somewhere along the way, someone messed up a few details in recounting it altogether. The knight’s armor was not shining when he came to rescue the princess, it was dented and torn and covered in the dust of the journey he had to undertake.
Because a knight in shining armor is one who has never known the gruesome rigors of battle in the first place.