Ashes Before the Throne

I gave away my heart long ago

not in weakness,

but in strategy.

Not lost,

but placed

far from the reach of gods and guilt.

I do not carry it through this war.

It would only slow the blade,

make mercy out of momentum.

I am not here to feel.

I am here to finish.

There is no ache in me.

No plea. No softness.

Only purpose,

honed like frost on iron.

They thought I’d need love to rise.

They thought I’d break without it.

But I do not fight for healing.

I fight for reckoning.

And when the throne is cold,

and the fire is done,

I will return for what I left behind.

Not to restore myself

but to choose again

what I become.

Until then

I move hollow.

Holy.

Precise.

And nothing

can follow me

through that fire.