New Version:
Hope was written in the lines of her eyes,
scripted and sweet like nectar;
it spoke from her lashes,
extending to the lost and blinking in renewal.
It sang from her closed lips,
uttered only warmth and caressed only truths,
sounding out delicate words that kept her warm in the winter.
It yearned to be free, to be exhaled into the world
and kissed the inside of her mouth, asking with grace,
but, she kept it close and ignored the tickle of its whispers.
She knew the hardened hearts of men and the cruelty with which
they would break hope’s fragile wings. So,
hope painted the chambers of her heart and the corridors of her veins,
ripening the flower blossoming inside of her mouth;
hope bloomed into a lotus, and fumbled and mumbled
all of her words. She knew it was finally time, when the petals brushed against
her lips, and she breathed out the golden perfume in a smile,
and shared her hope with the world, who was just devastated enough
to finally breathe it in and let it bloom within themselves.
Old Version:
Hope was written in her eyes,
spoke from her lashes,
sang from closed lips,
wishing to help the lost.
It yearned to be free,
to sing from open lips,
but she kept it close,
for she knew the world,
and she knew the cruelty of men,
and so it bloomed within her heart,
which was warmer than the
rest of the world.
Hope grew, hope flowered,
hope became a lotus,
golden, glowing, pure.
And then came the time for
hope to be shared.
Spoiler
This was more of an experiment than anything else. I rewrote something from a couple of months ago, when I was still relatively new to poetry. I have the original and redone here, so you can take a peek at both. I want to work on the rewrite, so any and all CC would be appreciated. 
Thanks for reading! Any title suggestions would be welcome as well.
-Coral-
