She Is Made Of Liquified Steel And Tempered Glass
Chipped but not broken
She was always yearning for a lover
A special soul that would offer her love,
A love that destroyed her boundaries
Of every day suffering, rising above.
***
She wished for a love that surrendered
One that overlooked her prettiness,
And would forego her stigmatic worth
Ignoring both her appeal and sexiness.
***
She dreamed that the one who’d love her
Did so for her individualism and her scars,
Not caring about her shabby empty pockets
Nor the crushing debris of her memoirs.
***
She had given up on love due to her past
Believing love was nothing more than pain,
Loads of half-spoken promises and deals
But she felt the broken notes so inane.
***
She wanted that love that she had heard
Written and sung by the fairytale writers,
Where romance and soul mates do exist
And lovers dream of passionate all-nighters.
***
She holds her head high, oozing strength
Until love finds it’s mark on her tender heart,
I’ve seen her dig herself out of her graves
Time and time again, after love departs.
***
Love is her kryptonite, her one downfall
Where life crushes her soul, it destroys,
Repeatedly burying her in a new grave
After realising she is just his new toy.
***
Yesterday I saw her sitting by the lake
Solitary once more as she cries and pines,
I wandered to her side and quietly sat
Knowing she needed me on the sidelines.
***
She sat quietly for awhile, ever so still
Looking out over the calm lake waters,
Her fingers twisting blades of grass
As she silently thinks and ponders.
***
Watching her face, she smiles and says
“I am the sorceress of forbidden fruit,
The lover of lost and mournful souls
Turning their pain into love absolute.”
***
“I am made of both liquified steel
And tempered glass, forded by time,
This is my life, who I am meant to be,
The executioner of my bloody heart
Chipped, not broken, but only I can see.”
*************************************
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Originally posted on Medium
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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Comments (4)
Hearted, very relatable. The excellent title for it ,too.🥰
Brilliant 💕💖💕
Ah wow, what a powerful piece of poetry. The line about fairytales really resonated. Each verse flows so beautifully into the next, the imagery is vivid, and the message is very impactful. Amazing work!!
Love this and it relates to so many people I know