armored

He wants to talk to You;

You – in the armor.
helmet firmly in place;
peering
through the slit
big enough to see through,
but not enough
to take an arrow to the eye.

pay attention,
this is important.

or, it isn’t.
only You can decide.

that’s always the thing
isn’t it?

does anyone ever break through?
or are You
so
guarded,
so
walled off,
that nothing
– no one –
ever dents your shield?

or perhaps Your suit and shield
stay so shiny
because You never enter the battle…

that suit gets heavy, You know;
He knows
You feel the burden.

the helmet – nearly as heavy as Your head itself.
the plated iron – another quarter of Your weight.
not to mention
Your undergarments
– the mail of chain –
designed to protect,
would drown You
if You tripped and fell
in a shallow brook
the Unclad Man
skips in a heartbeat

but nothing is skipping
in that stupid,
outdated,
outmoded,
suit of Yours.

oh, to have Your Heart skip.
that
might
just
Change Your Life.

Armored
contains Amore
if You just take a couple things off.


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