Blacksmith

You weren’t the strong one.
That’s what you told me.
Once the hurt cut into you,
it kept cutting through.
You just stayed with it.
You told me you were a conduit. Then one day, you stopped channeling. You told me you learned how to grow some metal. You walked away with your matchstick gaze and set the world ablaze.

Now you’re back from your vacation to Mercury, or was it Jupiter? The weather got so hot it rained rubies and sapphires and you just stood there untouched. The forecast called for clouds of iron, titanium rain, and winds powerful enough to tear apart the solar system, yet you stayed still as an Eskimo in a blizzard.

You called me the strong one and yet here I am, slowly letting the light break through the welded truth. The truth is, my armour is melting and I’m losing my metal. The truth is parts of me are dissolving in silver streams and you just keep forging on.