About no one in particular.

Loved and lost,
She bitterly regrets,
Past instances,
Remembering only the bad.

This poor unfortunate thing,
Once shining brightly,
Full of hope and fervor,
Reduced to ash in the kiln of life.

Reforged into cold steel,
A tool for existing.
Shut off from the world,
Barbed wire defenses in place.

A great and yawning chasm,
Spanned by crumbling bridges,
Her heart cringes,
As wary travelers approach.

The view from above,
Breathtaking and endearing.
From within, much the same,
Perhaps a bit tattered around the edges.

Secretly she longs,
To be proven wrong,
Yearning to release,
Her resplendent radiance.