this doesn’t have to be a fight, you know

On stage we fight choreographed

Each foot movement muscle memory

In the same repeated scene for every show

Your first blow is underhand, pretending

To be something it's not

Or maybe you really think it's harmless,

Pointing a poison dart like that

And I swing my sword, hands gripping

Arms moving before I even think to react,

Ingrained in my body

From this repeating dance

And I keep on sliding daggers up my sleeves

And I keep on letting the tips slip out,

Just a little,

Glint in the stage lights

Asking for the spiked shields I know

You never fail to throw up

But it's a small show

With a private audience

When faced with the uncaring eyes of the world,

Our private audience nowhere to be seen,

We leave our weapons backstage and

Go out for coffee and hot chocolate and

Now my daggers are out in the open so

You don't bother with the poisons darts

Or the shields, in fact

You can even set them completely aside now and then

So why do we keep on going back on the stage?

I think you've noticed her eyes reflecting the stage lights

From the empty rows of audience seats

And suddenly she's a threat

And in your eyes, I'm on

Her side