golden thread

There she is: that's her.
The one with the lying eyes.
The scarred and torn flesh,
Covered with a robe of golden thread.
No one would know-
Unless they looked into her eyes.
But they never get a chance.
The opportunity is never offered.
But this fragile being
Is owned by one of equal abuse
From the hand of his own breath.
As the sun comes closer
To where she is standing,
She begins to feel the pain that the daylight helped ease.
The wounds reopen and her eyes become dim
From the realization of her own existence.
But again, she is owned, and held tight
To keep from falling into herself.
Although loved and kept safe from the dangers around her,
He cannot control how it ends.
For he cares only for her, and none for himself.
And she is in him.
When he lets himself die,
She will also perish.
And so on goes the reason for living.