Gunmetal Gray

His veins were made of iron, 

Rusted blood-red, corroded, 

Fanning out like a virus, 

Each cell hardened, 

Unyielding and resolute, 

Refusing to bow in defeat.

Her flesh, a mass of gold,  

Soft, supple, and submissive, 

Would cave beneath my touch, 

Vain and gluttonous, 

It morphed and shaped, 

Upon the eye of the beholder. 

Your spine, however, 

Was forged in damascus steel, 

Sharpened by whetstone, 

Deadly yet ravishing to caress, 

Wrapped in resilience, 

You bend but do not break. 

Your eyes blaze with luster, 

Setting free the light, 

Trapped within molten metal, 

A once-concealed ferocity, 

Plundering the battlefield, 

Of my stone-cold heart. 

By Audra Burwell