Checkmate
The first move always goes to the pawn.
The player can slide forward either one or two spaces,
But you always move three.

You demolish my rooks,
Snap the swords of my knights,
Drain the faith from my bishops,
Topple the lines of my infantry,
Until you reach my defenseless queen.

And you do it all with a simple pawn.

But this was never in the guides,
In the rulebooks,
In the instruction manuals.
You write your own rules for the pieces.
You empower the worthless.
You disregard the strong.
You only compete to inflate your pride.

And you’re not a fair match for my mastery.
Yet somehow your black set transforms from rotting wood to obsidian,
And my pure marble disintegrates into talcum dust.
Somehow you play your meager pawn
Against my ruthless queen,
And you emerge the victor.

Your gameplay grounded in artifice,
Of blatant disrespect for the sovereignty and consent of my queen,
Is nauseatingly familiar.

It brings me back to that night:
Where the word ‘no’ had no meaning.
Where pushing you away from my kingdom only drew you in closer.
Where I waited for the clock to end your turn so I could forfeit the game.
Where I prayed desperately to God that I wouldn’t have to be there with you.

You knew there was only one seat left.
You knew I’d have to sit there.
You knew you were stronger than me.

I knew you’d do something…
And as always, you didn’t prove me wrong.

One word. Four letters.
Stop.
You’ve heard it a million times.
A million and one from me.

When I see you in school,
In the halls,
In class,
In my waking nightmares,
I decay from a queen into a damsel in distress.
I shed my crown of confidence,
I choke on the shards of my shattered hope,
I falter on the checkered tiles
Because I’m cornered in your game with every move I make,
In an endless, kingless checkmate,
And I remember.
I remember what you’ve done to me.
Do you?

You thought your diplomacy was benign.
You thought your invasion was appropriate.
You thought your slaughter was justified.
But I never thought a pawn could conquer a queen.

You proved me wrong.
A pawn can kill the queen if she’s close enough.
A pawn can kill the queen if she’s alone.
A pawn can kill the queen if she’s vulnerable.
A pawn can kill the queen if she’s unlucky.

So congratulations.
You’ve killed the queen.
But don’t get too proud.
It isn’t checkmate just yet.

I will defend myself.
I will push you away.
I’m smart enough to understand your intentions.
But will you respect me?

Now I can see twelve turns ahead.
I know your strategy,
I’ve deciphered your rules.
I can play your game.
I can resurrect my queen.
And I will exact my revenge.

I will see it through that no other girl is a victim of your game.
I will see it through that your lies and your emotional hypnosis are powerless.
I will see it through that although you destroy her, you will never defeat the queen.

So start your clock.
It’s time for you to surrender.
Tip your king while your dignity remains.

Because even in your game a pawn can only conquer so much.
A queen, however, is always invincible.
Checkmate.