The Tattooed Man in Black

He walked in a black suit,

Black tie, and tattoos,

Quiet yet commanding,

In laws only he pursues.

He is the Bishop.

The master of his own altar.

Striking like a whisper from blind corners,

On black squares, dark and diagonal from afar.

And the pawns can’t help but bow,

While the horses fall back from his silent attacks.

He is a blade forged in the dark.

He is the tattooed Man in black.

P.s. for the godson from the South

Of All the Shades of Red

Of all the shades of red

You carry inside your heart,

You blame it on the girls,

Saying they stained it from the start.

But that was never even paint

That your heart was soaked in instead,

Just red flags growing deep

In the roots beneath your thread.

Of all the shades of red

That you harbor in your soul,

You call it something sweet,

Till the sheets begin to unfold.

It was never love to begin with,

Just games you chose to play,

That brings forth all the hues of gray,

Even in the sunniest of days.

Of all the shades of red

That cloak you like a flame,

It wears you thin with time

Yet you still feed the same.

The red never fades...

It stains black on your hollow face,

And you keep all your flags waving,

With all the shades of red.

Footnotes:

To all the Patricks we have encountered... May we never cross paths with them again.

PS. There are 3 sides in every story... 

1. His Side 

2. Her Side 

3. Truth 

I'm choosing 2...

Because sometimes even the truth is not quite Right.