To Be Love's Knight Devoid Of Armor

I fight for love.  I fight for love long after the battle is over.  I analyze the battlefield, littered with the carrion of shredded promises and shrapnel torn dreams and try to make sense of where the tide turned.  I run through the intended strategies over and over again, feeling each blow anew beneath my bare chest with every recollection.  How could this dance have ended with the shedding of so many tears of my heart-blood?  How could the gentle and careful co-mingling of our two individual worlds turn to this?  Why didn't I take action when I noticed that our steps were slightly out of sync, when we stopped meeting one another's eyes, when we began to occasionally let go of our love to check our arsenal?  I try to mend the damage I can see using the sticky side of excuses and a salve of understanding as I have done since this dance began.  I now, however, know that unless another knight comes onto the field with as much want to prevail for our master as I have; then this dance will continue to end as it always has, with a field full of scars.  Scars, that is, until the final dance when they all come together to help guide you to victory together.