Don't bruise your bones love, don't you know they're beautiful. The foundation of all the things that grow from within your sacred storehouse. They're thick and sweet like milk and honey. The rose of your body, a sight to behold but hard to pluck, everyone has thorns, it's the human condition not your bad luck. But it's your framework none the less however catastrophic it may be. And you can flail about all you want but tantrums only show your immaturity.
Don't bruise your bones love, for they always carry you, heavy and light through all the yes no's thank and **** yous. A fragile Skelton don't let it decay for what queen did rule over the bursted blood vessels and scars when flowers and constellations are the kingdom yielding to your hand everyday.
Don't bruise your bones love, whatever trigger comes your way, take the words like the hand of a ghost, slipping through you like translucent silk, don't harbor them with a hook in your heart, don't plunge it in deep to stick. You have mountains to climb and valleys to tread, the terrain is tough enough without sealing malice inside your head.
Don't bruise your bones love, for all the hope they give, they are strength to the fallen, they are the purest form of love in this life we live. And a beacon they will be, flawed but not by you, for the world has made your bones strong without them being bruised by you.
I wrote this after a night of panic attacks and self-harm to remind myself that I'm worth more than scars.