
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.
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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