He and/is Me...

HE crouches in the corner, wound up as a spring. Piercing eyes flash only as a response, there is no light within HIM, only dark. HIS muscles are contorted, claws dug in the dirt. HE seethes, waiting for signs of life, hoping the last blow delivered was enough to end it, secretly wishing for another chance.

I think I'm solid, but the reality is, I'm feeble as a sprout. Too little limelight, not enough sunshine. I know my nemesis lay waiting, so I feign death, knowing HE may very well be the reaper, or at least a relative, unfooled by my act. This time I think it's easier to be dead, to end this war, once and for all.

Tactically, my defense is simple, use enough opposable force to smote HIM.  There is a weapon that I suspect might end him, but I've never used it, and a weapon unused is a useless weapon. The fear makes me jittery, like a first-timer lighting a short fuse. And who cares if I die in the fight, as long as I take HIM with me?

Theatricality and deception are powerful agents to the uninitiated.

And I am uninitiated. I've never one even a single battle, my chances of winning the war, waning.

I hear, I hate you, with such malice, it oozes from HIM. I hate HIM back.

I reply, And I you, revealing that I was only possum to HIS fox.

I take hold of the only weapon I haven't used, not knowing how far back to stand to avoid being collaterally damaged. Unused is useless. But you don't simply enter the code and press launch. To unlock and engage takes courage. And I am afraid of HIM.

HE lunges from the dark, close-lining me to the ground. A cheap shot, taken after noting the wobble in my knees.

My instant autonomic response is to stay down. But something beckons.

 Get! Up! It says. No, demands

Meanwhile, HE waits. Sure this time is no different from the countless others. HE toys in a way only someone with multiple wins can. A TKO is one knock down away. HIS back is to me.  I rise. A cheap taunt.

I can't beat HIM at HIS own game so I try another. One I avoided, always. I do everything to keep my quivering knees a secret. HE senses my renewed energy and says, "You'll kill us both," over a shoulder.

The lunge forward is awkward both because HE moves laterally and because I've little experience with this tactic. HE dodges, turns, and delivers a blow to my sternum that should do me in, but HE's still toying. Which for once, is to my advantage, because something is different. HE faces me in a defensive stance with a caution too often uncalled for.

You won't win, HE assures.

I know. I slump. My chest aches. My heart feverishly pumps blood from battered chambers. Air in. Air out. Each breath excruciating.

Air in, calm.

Air out, focus.

Turning, I see HIM, HIS face washed in worry.

Don't. He snaps.

Nothing is tensed. My muscles are completely relaxed. My mind, still.

DON'T! HE screams as HE dives, nearly through me. We both fall like timbering oaks. Scrambling, HE pins me to the ground.

My mind races. HIS grip tightens. That's it, fight.

Air in, calm.

Air out, focus.

I mouth, I love you. HIS grip loosens. I whisper it, void of feeling, still testing.

HE falls back and leaps up instantly. I remain supine.

"I love you." I say, pitying HIM. Pain shoots through us both. I refocus and say again, I love you, with empathy. HE drops to one knee.

I say again, I love you, and HE holds up a defensive hand for the first time and grunts, "Stop," through grit teeth.

I step toward HIM, for the first time, ever.

I reach out but HE bats me away, still powerful, but is momentum lacks surety, confidence.

I step in, not to strike, but to gain surer footing. I reach around, pulling and stepping into HIM. The closer I draw, the more HE writhes, panicked, desperate to break free.

But my hold is unyielding.

When HE's close enough to hear without any added inflection on my part, I simply add...

and i always will...

and feel HIM disappear.