Pawns
It's over now, in many ways. You're gone, the attack failed, I'm back to strictly business and we achieved our main objective. That's what matters right? To you, to him, to them. We're his pawns, he wanted their king. I'm not surprised you're gone. Sacrificing pawns is a classic strategy. So we have the king. And we lost our pawns. Classic. But for some reason, I'm not satisfied. In fact, I could care less about our objective, how can one person equal five? Three, even? Equal you? The numbers don't add up at all. It's not my place to question him, I admonish, we've pledged our servitude in more ways than words, I correct, you and I were scarcely "more than friends", I concur. Yet, sitting here alone at night, counting all the ways it could have ended, searching for things that were never even here in daylight, wondering what you went through, makes it seem okay. Okay to miss you. Okay to mourn you. Okay to admit I may have been in love. I still hear, inside my mind, the art you created. What was begat of your greatest weapon warped into free expression. You used to play beautifully when you played for fun, with no intent at all. Like now, here, at the end. I don't think you intended to, but you taught me. Taught me that, for all our wrongs, evil people can hurt too.