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Kimberlite Blood

7/5/2025

By Ellie HoovsPublished about a year ago 1 min read

They mined my marrow,

feasting on the delicacy,

licking clean the bones

and drinking from limber veins,

laced with corundum,

mocking the lowborn blood I bore.

Their stomachs rumbled, "not enough",

tossing away my scrap tin frame,

my metal, wasted,

thrown into the lapidary,

unsuitable.

But I broke the bonds they wrote for me,

forged my own fire,

liquified my heart

into magmatic puddles,

the marble of me metamorphized

in cocoons of pressurized schists

for two perpetual scores.

faceted my rage, scintillating,

bezeled deep to remove

purple bearding bruises,

leaving only this shimmering Asscher jewel.

They said I was a melee simulant

of the stone of kings,

but I would not be blinded by kimberlite,

I carved my own pavilion.

I made myself

a queen.

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About the Creator

Ellie Hoovs

Breathing life into the lost and broken. Writes to mend what fire couldn't destroy. Poetry stitched from ashes, longing, and stubborn hope.

My Poetry Collection DEMORTALIZING is out now!!!: https://a.co/d/5fqwmEb

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    Written by Ellie Hoovs