There is beauty in the way she unravels herself to me.
How she plucks on the strings of her well-worn corset of flesh,
With fingers skimming over the buttons and hooks that made her once distant to me.
Stripping the clothes of Herself until she stands naked as a baby.
Placing her Trust in the cradle of my arms and her Heart in my hands.
There is beauty on how she self-destructs infront of me.
The prismatic glass pieces of her soul scattered like fallen snow
As I hammered through it with an ice pick of words, lies and promises to be kept.
Her tears sucked dry as the last falls down like a diamond discarded.