You may not have been birthed in the soil,
and granted,
you will not blossom
when spring melts winters wake
but inside of you
grows a thousand gardens
full of exploding stars.
You are of the earth
and your ashes
have been constructed with stardust,
and set free with the wind.
So you may not have a pretty face,
and your body may hold stories
of too many moonless nights alone.
But if you reach inside,
you will find a forest
for a ribcage
and a restless ocean heart.
So don't ever let anyone tell you
you are nothing.
You are a galaxy
holding a million different planets,
and my dear,
that is not nothing.

Holding his hand was like a prayer
and when we kissed I finally saw God
but no amount of getting on my knees could stop Hell from clutching it's burning hands to my throat and no volume of screaming could lead to my salvation.

I tell myself it must have been the devil telling him to love her
instead of me,  
but that won't change the fact that you never were my Heaven.