• eyes like gems, sparkling,
    reflecting against the moon.
    she held a sword of ice in
    her bronze hand, as cold
    as snow and steel.

    riding on the back of a tiger,
    its' roars and snarls of anger
    fill the empty silence around her.
    that day, she began her eternal
    search, for the one that can
    make her whole again.

    she ran away from the sun,
    with her ticket made of
    moonbeams.

    blood may be thicker than water,
    but both were used to create her.
    the artists' paint and imagination -
    creating a clockwork doll.
    brass for her skin, steel for teeth.

    a weapon of destruction, that
    fell in love - destroying herself.

    her clock started faltering -
    handicapped, like a missing limb.
    still, she endured - determination
    a permanent grit of her steel teeth.
    the clockwork woman never
    smiled again, in life.

    if she had veins, they would be black -
    poisoned from the taint of
    endless desperation.

    hoping to find the one she lost,
    her painter, her artist - creator.
    that clockwork woman stopped
    ticking on his doorstep,
    her silence a pain in his chest.

    holding out a hand to her lover,
    she lay on the floor, discarded.

    this masterpiece ran to love,
    but found a ticket made of
    death.

    now this clockwork woman watches
    her painter from the confines of heaven.
    she could only bear witness to
    his increasing age and weariness.

    now she waits for the day to be
    re-united eternally, with him.

    she is his clockwork guardian angel,
    and he - the reason for her existence.
    the fist time she sees her lover again,
    she'll smile - and never stop again.