Maybe a little hasty

As intoxication ran like water into an icy glass,
I inhaled,
I swayed,
I shuttered under my lover's frozen grasp.

And each time I tried to pull away,
Her fists burned my wrists
to make me stay.

A prayer of prose.
a ribbon of flattery
and words tied up in bows...

There's a dragon breathing down my neck.
Its fire stolen from its breath.
Broken, damaged, but not yet dead.
It's sorrow reminds me of the blood I've shed.

Tired,
Broken,
Beaten down,
These broken bones always seem to heal somehow.

Still,
Bones hide in sacs of blood and skin,
While these scars tell stories of pain and sin.

How I'd love to melt this body down,
smooth the scars,
mend the bruises life's delt.

Still,
I suppose it's the scars we gain,
and the pain we endure,
that mold us into the beings we're meant to be
when we're pure.

How I love myself and all of my scars.
I wouldn't trade an hour,
a second,
of my broken heart.

Because as long as the wine
runs deep and red through my veins.
Intoxication holds hope
that you'll thaw my heart again.