Forged in Fire

I was once a man of iron,
shaped by love, bent by trust,
standing strong in the home I built,
never fearing time or rust.

But love, it is no gentle forge—
it does not shape with careful hand.
It bends, it breaks, it burns, it brands,
until you scarcely understand.

She was the heat that licked my frame,
the hammer striking true,
a blade that swore to keep me safe,
but cut me through and through.

I held her high, I held her close,
I swore I’d bear the weight,
but love that is not held by two
becomes a beast called fate.

And so I fought, and so I failed,
and so she walked away.
Left me standing in the wreckage,
left me burning in the fray.

She turned to smoke, she turned to ash,
she vanished in the night,
but in the dark, I swore a vow—
“I will not fade. I will ignite.”

I stepped into the fire’s maw,
let the embers kiss my skin,
let the weight of all my failings
melt the weakness deep within.

I faced the truth, I held the past,
I let the scars remain,
not as chains, but as reminders—
strength is born inside of pain.

She has not changed. She may not ever.
That is hers to bear. Not mine.
I am not the man I was—
I am stronger, steel refined.

She will wake one day to silence,
to the echoes of my name,
but by then I’ll stand so distant
that her cries will call in vain.

For I am iron, I am fire,
I am forged anew and free.
The past may whisper, call me back,
but it will never shackle me.