We all bear scars in one way or other.
Some from loving someone too deeply and some others from losing someone or something that you cared too much for.
Some scars are intentional while some others exist for stupid silly reasons.
Some we are but some we are not so proud of.

I have scars all over my body.
All over my mind and all over my soul.

I have scars on my brain due to over thinking and over analyzing incidents that haven’t even happened yet.

I have scars on my eyes for shutting it more often, for being blind to things that should’ve been taken care of.

I have scars on my nose from all those endless snobs and sniffles from my horrifying past relationships.

I have scars on my mouth from speaking the truth, only the truth and nothing but the truth.

I have scars on my neck from getting choked up on false love and fake proposals.

I have scars on my shoulders from lifting up responsibilities that I was accustomed to from an early age.

I have scars on my hands from holding onto things that weren’t supposed to be mine from the very start.

I have scars on my chest from my ice cold heart that has been stomped over and over multiple times.

I have scars on my lungs from the “occasional” stress buster cigarettes that I am addicted to every now and then.

I have scars on my stomach from one too many butterflies that flew when we first met.

I have scars on my legs from running, miles away from people and that place I used to call home.

I have scars on my skin from the many tattoos I got done that helps me reassure my self-worth.

I have scars on my soul from trying hard to pull myself together, calm me down and compose myself through the rampant storm that’s been raging in my life.

I have all these scars. All of them.
And they don’t scare me now even though they hurt like hell, at times.
They’ve become a part of me and looking back, they are just reminders of who I was, what I have been through my life and the person it has made me become.
They don’t scare me anymore because they define who I am now.

A survivor.
"So tell me what scars do you bear?"
i want to get high in foreign cities
travel to places i have yet to lay my eyes on
pack a bag and take off, my only motive to feel free
i want to kiss lovers on pavement my toes have never touched
beneath trees rooted with legends in their leaves
ensuring everlasting love
and i want to feel light, rather than weighed down
anchored to one small town
i want to drop everything and get away
to places where time is altered
and the stars are always present
whether it be in the night sky or people's eyes
i want to fall in love with strangers, cities, and scenes
i crave so deeply to feel free
to start anew

but at the same time
i want you to come too

Even I can’t deny it
That millions
Perhaps billions of
Years ago

Your moon tried to save
My sun
From going into a
Black hole

And you held onto me
As brave
As you are now

‘I won’t let you go...’
But it was too much
Your fingertips
To hold onto

Perhaps billions of years ago
We said we’d meet again
Our moons
Our suns
Exploded into a trillion
Different particles
Into space

Making their way into the waters
Into the trees
For another million years

My heart recognized you
The moment I saw you
My sun knew
You were the moon
That collided
Of years ago
In front of that black hole
That dispersed us
To now

It’s time to make our own

Where stars are born
No one can know your pain
Not nearly as well as yourself
But the rope won't take it away
It just gives it to someone else
  Mar 14 Melting Butterflies
Roses are red,
Her eyes are too.
Flooded with tears,
And bags dark blue.

Roses are dying,
Her pupils just drown.
But now she fell asleep,
Like the petals to the ground.
i miss him
           not like
                  when you lose someone close to you  
but like
       when the last petal falls from the last rose
                  when you know spring is over
                              and you wished you'd played in the rain a little more
there was a week
where everything crumbled around me
and the deaths of two i loved
changed me

there was a week
where you could find me in only two places
wrapped up in my duvet
or in a white sterile room

there was a week
where i didn't think i could cope
tears multipled, as did cuts
but i'm still here.
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