Sigh-lar

Hmmm, never done this before. Will have to expand in time. For now, a poem.

You've closed fast
the shutters of your heart.
Vowing never to let
anyone get close
to the truth of you.
Locked up tight
in your self-imposed solitude,
you flutter and flit
like a butterfly
through the lives of strangers
who never realise
they hold no place in your heart.
You are the cold moon,
pale and distant,
taking in the world with eyes of fire
and an icy heart.
Marble Cupid.
Stone Child.

Another poem:

Sticks and stones may break my bones
but words can also hurt me.
Stones and sticks break only skin
while words are ghosts that haunt me.

Slant and curved the word-sword falls
to pierce and stick inside me.
Bats and bricks may ache through bones
but words can mortify me.

Pain from words has left its mark
on mind and heart that's tender.
Cuts and bruises now have healed
it's words that I remember.