chess in an unopened box

these games-

suspended on strings

of bitter leaves and spun sugar-

are ones of words

and actions

and assumed thoughts,

dancing along the line

that blurs

between expectations

and reality-

the pawns tumble

one by one

into their graves

of black and white,

waiting for purpose,

longing to stray from

the rules

printed neatly

on colored paper,

shifting and changing

and wanting

to finally feel

alive