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Her Last Line Of Defence

Allowing her broken heart to heal

By Colleen Millsteed Published 5 years ago • 1 min read
Image courtesy of Pixabay

She tried everything to protect her scarred heart

But every decade or so there was always that one,

They’d break the chains and persistently chip away

Needing to get in, where they’d torment and have fun.

***

She allowed her demons to lead the security team

Believing they’d stop all intruders, as they’d flee,

But again, there would always be that one soul

Who was determined to break in, set her heart free.

***

She put her dragons in charge, backing her demons

But still that one, stubbornly insistent and intent,

Knocking on her heart, deciphering her horrid pain

Worming their way inside, without her consent.

***

They’d not stay long, once they’d added another scar

Topped up her pain and destroying her inner peace,

They’d run away laughing, happy with their win

While she’d patiently wait for the heartbreak to cease.

***

After seeing this time and time again, my heart ached

As I watch her destroyed by their torment and pain,

They were deliberate heartbreakers, determined

To brag and boast how they’d beaten and gained.

***

So Girl, I understand why you protect your heart

A last resort, I see you are now wearing brass knuckles,

Wrapping them around your painfully scarred heart

Let’s see them try now, I guarantee their knees buckle.

***

I love that you use these brass knuckles almost daily

To knock the fuck out of those hurtful, loving feelings,

Before they can take root, unable to slay your demons

Your last line of defence, while your pain’s slowly healing.

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Please click the link below my name to read more of my work. I would also like to thank you for taking the time to read this today and for all your support.

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Originally posted on Medium.

surreal poetry

About the Creator

Colleen Millsteed

My first love is poetry — it’s like a desperate need to write, to free up space in my mind, to escape the constant noise in my head. Most of the time the poems write themselves — I’m just the conduit holding the metaphorical pen.

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    Written by Colleen Millsteed