My Armour Doesn’t Shine So Much

Vibrant smile, Vibrant shirt, Laced up leather shoes.

Charming affectations of a charming man.
Was how you characterised the whole effect.
Another blow! Near mortal. Harder than the ones before because.
I thought you knew me. My charms, used as armour to keep the world at bay.
A version of me. The person you know, the real one?
Fragile. Hidden.

But not from you.

We all have armour.
You too. I know that better than most who call you friend.
You say yours is made from granite. That’s your boast.
I let you see the dents and scratches, the weakened bodywork of my self-defence.
Now; my armour doesn’t shine so much. Time does that.
Granite armour too; weathers. Your is so opaque.
Your complaint? They don’t see me!

That’s your armour, blocking the view.

Remember the valiant days? Riding out. We took them on. Fearless.
But now? I hear the whisperings of the Dark Knight Coming. Louder.
Closer. Underneath the castle walls. Digging, scraping, undermining my foundations.
Testing my defences.
It’s not the ones fighting face-to-face who scare me.
I have my charm, my armour, they don’t frighten me. Cowards. You know them too.
It’s the ones who went before. Living-on.

In my shadowlands.

The ones who built these defences.
Designed them for a different time,
For different weapons.
I wonder; were the faults in their designs caused by ignorance or planned; as betrayal.
They’re the ones who frighten me. They stalk my nights.
They delay the coming of the morning star; Eos.
Holding back her celestial rays from drawing love,

Closer to my heart.

And these worn and withered charms I wear?
Buckled now; diminished armour,
Of Vibrant smiles, Vibrant shirts and Laced-up leather shoes.
Affectations of a charming man you say.
I continue to wear them. No more as armour. No more in self-defence.
They’re too weak for that. Too old.
I wear them now,

In defence of self.

image; https://www.betreutesproggen. ‘The Myths and Legends of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table’.