Guarded with golden plated steel facades
Imminently attached to the grips of reality
Deliberately dissociated with the intensity of potential
Love was a dangerous game amid poets banter
Traveling with the intent of a final stamp in her hearts passport
The dating scene was a nightclub of opportunity
Until the lights came on and empty souls fled from its sea
Supposedly she is gifted the ability to see through the smoke of each patron
She bared nothing behind her robe of stealth
Blanketed with the memories of bad decisions and rushed promiscuity
Experiences became the pile of donations to become another’s treasure
Every mirror of her words tore through her anxiety with purpose
The demise of her recklessness danced with her swings toxins
Irrevocably controlling her no longer sober inhibitions
She was a cold lukewarm soldier of passion
Giving three fucks less with the warmth of her fire blaring
She was the subwoofer to her partners enhanced sounds
She was the un-repaired shoulder when others forgot love was a verb; not a noun
Retired from the detriment of her meticulous lovers
Refocused on showing compassion to truly develop herself; the treasure.
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