after everything is said and done,
i can only hope that someone out there in this world can find the hidden galaxies in my bones,
i hope someone finds the stars in my eyes and the moon in my mind —
for the rest of me is wrecked.
my smile no longer reflects the sun's radiant rays,
my smile is transparent now; anyone could see right through it.
my smile is dark, much like the sky without the illuminating stars gleaming down on us.
my heart no longer contains the milky way, you barged right into my most important ***** and stole everything stellar about me.
after the damage you've caused me, my heart is dark too, like your attic was the night you brought me up there to stargaze.
at the time, i didn't know i would be gazing at the constellations you stole from me.
you always did say you admired me like i put the stars in the sky.
(i didn't know that you literally meant it.)

we all possess bruises and scars
but I think what matters the most is how they're created
whether you take a blade and create them yourself
or if you think about poisonous memories that create wounds for you,
or if someone left a few marks on you,
what matters is if you treat your wounds with medicine,
or if you keep going back to the person who created them in the first place;
hoping that maybe they'll bandage the scars they gave you and you can start over again.