Composition

Your peace’s
Were sown
With iron
And gold
A shiny
knew coat
I have yet
to unfold

Although,

The last time
I peeked
You were still
On your knees
Picking the peace
You would tend
As your keep

Last time
I hovered
The iron
Was butter
The gold
Made from luster
With sleeves
Sown to cover

The last time
Id fret
Was the moment
You’d said
You would rather
Be dead
Then stay
Within shreds

And now
I can glimpse
Only a crack
Between wince
Yet,
Barely a hint
To how broken
You’ve been

The gold
Made from frames
The perfect portray
Of the life
That you’ve made
From your
Deepest dismays

The iron
Is staples
The rust
Was once fatal
But you stretched
To a cable
To weave
Your life stable

Your eyes
Would once quiver
At the light
between slivers
Of the past
That once lingered
But now,
How they shimmer

Still,
The most elegant
Position
That I
Came to live in
Was the beauty
You built
From your own
Composition.