New Armor

She needed new armor.
Hers was chipped and worn.
Had the repeated blows across her shell taken its toll?
Or were the battles not fierce enough to forge her armor's true strength?
Or was it because after each battle she cast it aside - neglecting to mend and polish?
Would the next direct hit break it and scar her deep?
Or would she discover that which raged beneath was more powerful and defiant than metal?

he picked up the jagged pieces.
they were so small and delicate compared to his.
he was amazed it could ever have protected her.even at it's strongest.
he fanned the fire,and started melding his onto hers.
he had some strong pieces.he could remember every blow to every centimeter .the pain,who brought it. how it was deflected.
he hammered until his hands were as raw as his soul.
she watched in amazement,as the two suits were mangled into submission.
covered in sweat and blood,he knelt before her,and offered it to her.
it fit perfectly,and for the first time,she knew this armor was just right. impenetrable.
but,now,he had none.
she dropped her cloak,her metal. she took his hand.
they conquered everything.


***After I wrote the top part about Her and Her armor,  my dear friend Steve Silver wrote the below portion to finish it***

If you like Steve's writing (and you know you do), he's recently started a blog recounting bits and pieces of his incredible life.  Please check it out. - http://www.thismighthurtabit.blogspot.com/



Originally written June 16, 2014
m.