i looked up
and placed
my fingertips to the top
of my bedroom ceiling
and i looked at the fluorescent stars
and moons
and constellations
and planets
stuck to the white paint,
and i ran my fingers over each
one and i thought that this was the
closest i would get to touching heaven.
i have learned that we are more than our scars
and more than we give ourselves credit for.
we are so much more than the galaxies running through our veins
and we are so much more than the sum of our bodies put together
with the lover's sharing our beds at three in the morning
because we shouldn't have to rely on other people for us
to be happy and feel complete.
we don't need other people to tell us we are beautiful because
you were beautiful even before he said you were.
you were more lovely than she said you were before she left you in the dust.
you don't need someone to tell you the things that are already true
and if you can't see that you are hauntingly fantastic then you need
to get a better nirror
look a little closer
because there is something in you that is keeping you alive even
when you want nothing more than to be dead.
you need to look closer at yourself and place your hands
on your face;
feel the skin that keeps you together even when you want to tear it open;
look at the arms that have scars engraved on the surface but also
are capable of holding other people up when they are upset.
look at those arms- your arms;
look at the way they sway and the way they hold people together when they
are falling apart at the seams.
look at your legs;
look at how they hold you up each morning,
look at how they chase the moon
and the way they continue to let you get to the places you need to be.
look at your hands;
look at how they curve and how they fold into each other.
look at how they hold people's hands and look at how they grasp the strands of
your hair as you messily finger-brush the knots out of your bedhead.
look at your eyes;
look at those **** eyes and notice how the color captures the world,
look at how much they have seen,
how much they have yet to see.
look at the beauty in you, little one.
look- just look at how far you have come.
look at your progress-
you may not feel like you have gotten any better but yes you have;
it is another day you are alive and i could not be any more
proud of you than i am right now.

you are not a temple;
you are a ******* forest.
people may have chopped you down and you may have
imprints on your surface,
but you are enchanting.
you are not monochromatic,
you are flourishing with colors of the rainbow
and you change each day.
you are unknown,
yet so many wish to venture into your soul,
but you close up at the chance of something new.
my love,
you must open your eyes if you wish to start over.
i know you see the pieces of yourself missing
but look at how the light will fill up the cracks if you just let it in.
your soul will not disappear if you simply let the light in.
open your eyes and let the colors fill your black and white world.
you are a forest,
and you are the most beautiful forest i have ever
endeavored.
people will not love you more
if there is less of
you.*

//

{m.j}