Lace

I wear a suit of armour made of lace.
 
Just pretty enough to distract you
Maybe catch your eye across the room
But too pretty to avoid your undesired attention 
Your finger chafed the last of my lacy defence
It slithered up
and down the effortlessly penetrable thread
Swooping every curve
Memorising its patterns
 
We’re all aware of how weak she is
And how persistent you are 
But
You that trailed behind me
You that followed me home
You that dragged me to the floor 
You that manipulate the shape of me 
You are the worst thing I will forever be attached to
 
Because Peter Pan burst through my window
and rubbed soap on the soles of my shoes 
And now I possess you as a dispiriting shadow
Lingering
 
The grief trickles in blood down our legs 
Our stomachs starve with the loss
of breath we didn't realise we were holding
 
But do not worry!
Knives, and Bullets, and men
Could never splinter the strength of lace
They say it’s as protective as a bulletproof vest 
 
We are untouchable.
For as long as you are just a deluded shadow,
and not the men keeping us bleeding
  
Our suits of armour are not pretty enough to love
just pretty enough to target

Elizabeth Brown

Elizabeth Brown is a creative writing student at the University of Birmingham. She writes what she knows and what she wishes to feel (And what she wishes she never felt) Elizabeth is intrigued. Her poetry has been recognised by lecturers as ‘submitted’ and ‘formatted correctly’. She hopes you too will think the same.

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