Uncut Diamond

Her beauty was that of an uncut diamond,  

a kind of light rough against its own walls,  

not Hollywood shine, but raw, bright and warm,  

like dawn spread over fog-sleeping valleys.  

She moved through rooms like a lost hymn aching,  

an innocent longing dressed in shadows,  

eyes soft as distant stars swallowing dark,  

a pulse hums under her skin like deep wells.  

I wanted to touch, to find the rough edges,  

to feel her sharp beauty cut clean through my bones,  

to drink from that ancient glint she harbored,  

her own wild god not for me to contain.  

She’s every splintered thing begging to live,  

a jagged love that knows what light forgives.