Loneliness seeps through me

like a soft quilt of blade,

its tranquil brutality leaving me scathed.

It is hard to ignore the gay and merry

that I once adored so fondly,

its memories now carving sears into my heart .

But oh,

how can steel ever be carved?,

no, my dear, it cannot.

It can only be scratched,

a small imperceptible scar,

that tugs at what one might call pride ,

forever.

Iron cannot ever be known at once,

for its veil of illusion covers it as Fe,

Feminine it looks,

but strong just the same.

It does not trust easily,

does not boil ,

for the bare minimum,

but, my dear,

when did Iron ever rust alone?