She holds onto the sleeve of a watchman,
Though he would name her unfound,
Head turned to gaze across an ocean.

Her heart was birthed of bright silver,
His of a million shades of gold,
An impure cut to her once bled vein.

To be made of glass was her sin of a blazing sun,
But his love was made of deep piercing hurt.
His heart was trained to bite, not kiss.

Stefanie Fontker

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/blistered-lips/