Compressed material against dove-like skin
it's iron coated with fire and ice
a faultless vest trained from the best
to reject nefarious activity thrown her way

the tick of the clock breezed by
and her mind forgot the feel
of her petals against the wind,
the jabs of thorns that drew blood,
elation in the form of a smile,
and the cadence of the wheels
as age's stampede never slept

suddenly the sun had risen and fallen
more than a couple of times
and the iron had blended with her skin
dominant silver swirls and cream scrawls
her forsaken emotions dissolved into her soul
they thrashed and fought like wild animals
tried to break free from the vest of fire and ice
she felt the stings of bees in her pores
though iron is too strong
unbroken by the song of the tears that never fell.

A ghost of a feeling brushed iron
a mere tickle in a sea of solidity
yet unfaltering and bulletproof vest
never swayed an inch
round her afflictive chained heart.