Black ink and sunbeams poetry

Iron-sworn,
contemptuous,
in the quiet, burdened
still by that which you,
afflicted, once refused

iron-heart,
your lovers whimsy
etched, ephemeral,
in days past, hold
her memory yet upon
your flesh

salt-skin,
adrift, one day
all that too will
plunge, anchored down,
into the sea