Smear the ink that spills from the wounds you left me with
Across my canvas, suddenly, I'm considered an artist
Kudos to me for writing about all my heartaches and heartbreaks
It's my only relief from breathing in tainted oxygen
Lungs half filled with other people's *******
I'm going to be a ballerina when I grow up, I used to say
Instead, I find, my talent lies in laying my emotions out for display
What I always dreaded I would become, I became
Just another poet, writing tirelessly about pain

There is a knife in my hand
And I could use it-
To **** the beast inside of you
But I won't
I have to protect the human

Moon dust in your lungs
Stars in your eyes
You are a child of the cosmos
A ruler of the skies

Nebulas and constellations, created
With the sparks between us
If your eyes can't catch the vastness
Look up to the sky and ponder

As infinite as it is
My love will always
Be more.

I laid broken pieces of myself, in front of him,
Deciding to dance into the unknown, go out on a limb,
Expecting a scowl, or vile laughter,
I braced myself, for the foreboding disaster

Yet angelically he stood, with patience to share,
With my heart in his hands, he was truly aware,
Deciding to heal me, he reached for my soul,
Healing the pain, I had hidden from all

My heart is pockmarked
Like the face of the moon
Oh, from loving you
And you and you

The craters on my heart
Left, from the massive destruction
Of giving so much
In return, receiving nothing

From a distance
My love appears whole
But those pieces have been lost
Oh, to you
And you and you

Are hearts really pink?
Mine feels black and blue
Oh, from you
And you and you

My heart's fire
Burns passionately around the blackened craters
Oh, not for you
And you and you.