estella, and i.

I wonder if I could be an Estella?

Or rather, the ideal she was supposed to be.

Could I craft myself to be a girl forged into your heartbreak?

Living glass, sharpened to shatter hearts.

Unrequited beauty of an icy figure.

If someone could love me, could I then lure them?

Beguile you with a bite of words and beautiful form,

Bait the man and then break him as I move on,

Entrancing another, indifferent to each left behind,

Coolness in my stride, freezing the air with the heat of desire.

It is cruelty and it is beautiful.

We savour the sweet vengeance and it makes it so.

Each man left glancing and broken-

He heals up a little of the bitterness left behind,

From when a man left a woman in a wedding dress to weep,

Jilted and now rotting, and she trained a little girl to grow

Brutal in her manners that seem so elegant,

And so close to the hearts of people even though she casts them into coldness.

( I suppose that is what they love).

But Estella was that girl made to be that way

That we ask ourselves if we could be, heartbreakers

Sharpening our knives for a brilliant battle of courtship.

And Estella still seemed to struggle.

There was one she could never win against;

Yet in not playing the game with him, she won still.

No, I do not think that ideal is a thing I could easily be.

Cold yet loved, so I am not the one broken.

I shall not win that vengeance yet,

I let imprints be left too swiftly on my heart.

Left behind and lost-

But I would rather be that, than the breaker.

Beautiful as it sounds to be.