The words that spill onto these pages
Harm more than they heal

A constant reminder of the lost loves
And the many mistakes we’ve made

But, in order to heal from these wounds
We have to learn to accept them

If I could light the sky
In the darkest hours
only
To make you smile
I'd pluck a match and throw it high

Black consumed by orange for the world to see

No one else can divert my affection
I only see the flames dance across your deep ocean eyes
Love is too weak of a word to describe

The beauty of it all
Releases the ache in your soul

Equilibrium has been accomplished within the cleanse of our burnt existence

Our lives are just like books
Filled with numerous chapters
We may not like what’s inside
But turning the page and
Continuing the story
Is the only way to move on

If the label on a bottle of poison were more pretty,
More people would choose it over the ugly antidote.
This is a problem we face,
When the vision is blurry.

I’ve written numerous
Poems for you
Each and every one
Delicately written

Pictures painted
With words bleeding
From my pen until
The paper is soaked

Yet you cast aside
The pain it is
To arrange
Those words for you

I'm pondering
If pouring
My heart out
Is worth it anymore

Well this poem
Will be torn up
Because you don’t
Deserve it

I wonder
If you ever did

do you remember when you were younger and watched your sister stare at the ceiling for hours with a blank expression and memories of that boy who's thumb traced a seething heart onto the back of her hand before sealing it with a kiss? or how your brother told you to go to your room as he tested the durability of his walls by punching the number of letters of that girl's name who didn't feel worthy of herself?

and now can't you remember that day you stared out of the window counting your heartbeats because you didn't want to end up like your sister and felt bile rise in your throat as you saw the bandaged knuckles of the boy you couldn't bare to burden?

because, sometimes, I'm not sure which is better; watching and wondering about the nightmare or growing from it yourself.

-Mars S.

I hate you,
stupid mind of mine.
Why can't you let me go out and shine?
Instead,
You'd rather hold me back in the past.
All I want, is for these thoughts to end at last.

I looked at these people around me,
these sad souls living happily,
and I never completely understood
how the broken survived so beautifully.

-Mars S.

Don’t be ashamed
Of your scars
Because I have matching ones