Her heart was repeatedly shattered.
Pieces of it scattered.
Never to be mended, forever fractured.
Fragments of her incense never to be found.
Some in the attics of people’s past, locked and bound.
A wilting beat, a dying drum…a fading sound.
An alchemist stepped into her world, daggers hurled.
Her sharp edges a warning,
to keep him from exploring.
Within the wilted corridors of her dusty soul, the past flows.
Hopeful doors leading nowhere. Thoughts that cannot be closed.
He dodges her black clouds and scary crows.
He listens to her echoing cries
Over his affections she’s agonized.
In matters of love, life has been unfair.
Resonating sounds of lonely despair.
He gathers her tears, sorrows, lies and fears.
Collecting remnants of her nightmares to expel them someplace, somewhere.
Wielding his alchemical still
he melds her parts, he uses his skill.
Her rusted heart he refines to gold.
He values her life, he treasures her soul.
Bringing her out of darkness is his goal.
With his elixir he extracts her beauty and beholds her worth.
She’s found her light and heaven on earth
— The Pretty Platform