Do not tell me that
the cracks in my skin
where I let the sadness seep through
make me beautiful-
they are anything but.
They are my hate and desperation
blazed into the blanket of my body,
those moments where nothing was beautiful
and it seemed as though
nothing would ever be beautiful again.
If sadness is so lovely,
why did my worst moments happen
with oceans searing my eyes
and hurricanes raging through my chest,
splintering ribs into my lungs,
lodging bones into the crevice where
a heart should beat.
My scars are not gardens
nourished for growing love;
they are the darkest abysses
that I must keep myself
from falling into again.
“
| — | Emily Palermo, If You’re Looking For Flowers, You Won’t Find Them In My Skin (via starredsoul) |
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