The Shieldmaiden

My dress is made
Of broken feelings and rejected doorways
Sleeves cut by a silver blade,
Sewn together while the tailor prays.

My jewellery is cold,
Which is perfectly normal
Or so I was told.
It's still icy and formal.

I have dancing shoes
With soles of lead
That make me feel like I've nothing to lose
And other times make me feel dead.

But inside this corset
I burst open with the warmth
Of a rising sunset
And twist like a whirlwind of mirth and gloomth.

My hair is filled with madmen
And the dew of long lost songs.
Why do you not see me then?
I even have golden silver prongs.

I suppose it's my fault, too
I was too wrapped up in silk
To remember you
And your words that solidify like milk.

Yet I enjoy my vaporous cage
It's a safe shore
A dungeon for my rage
It keeps me wanting more.

In freedom I would choke
I'd be too naked to know what to do
Without the warmth of my tight cloak
I'd be too close to you.

And you, however benevolent
Are foreign and strange
Separate, frightehing prevalent
My defences you would shift and change.

And I'm afraid.

So I choose crumpled fashion
To shield me
I clothe it in passion
To avoid that dreaded "We".

A collectivity that would become me
Haunt, bewitch and suffocate
With white lover's arms, you see
The very ego and force it was supposed to create.