You're not just "beautiful".

No, I mean, yes, you are beautiful, but jesus, when I say "beautiful"
it's not beauty like perfect "golden, glowing, soft halo" or whatever the hell writers like to glorify about some strands on your head
or having a "radiant smile" or "blush of a fair maiden" or things that wouldn't even make a lick of sense
if not for
biological evolution, physical attraction and Shakespeare.

No it's beauty that your mind is radiant, it's a tragic galaxy that I want
nothing more than to live in
and your heart is beating and it continues to
and you continue to, even when
you feel defeated
because it's you and your mind battle
and you scream out in
every way possible, your spirit and voice is  an orchestra that resonates somewhere in between my ribcage and my lungs and the words
the very words you use,
doesn't that tell more about you than
how "skinny your thighs are"
or how your "eyes glisten in the moonlight"?
Doesn't that tell me more than your "curving nose"or the "sway of the hips"?

No I'm not going to ******* love you for your "porcelain skin" and the
stupid "contours of your spine", I won't worship you like a poet --
I'm not going to praise your "romanticizing self-destruction",
which is so over used,--
can't you understand, beauty is not the face you wear but
the beauty that rakes itself over coals,
the sacrifices you make and the passions you care for,
the darkest secrets that you harbor
at any given midnight, and
even the way you like your ******* tea in the morning.

So when I say you're "beautiful", just know I'm not a poet.

Your eyes,
gleaming with sparkles,
complimenting your touch
which sends shivers
to a distant place
that I once forgotten,
now remembered
and these timeless nights
and endless days
could never be so perfect
in the thought of
never laying eyes
on a new beginning,
with such vibrant colors
I can’t silence my lips
in saying 'I love you'.

dear little girl,
you have a purpose.

you are to bloom like flower,
you are to shine bright,
and you will become something great
for you are special.

i know you have heard this,
over
and over
and over again.

but i am telling you this again,  
because maybe this time around,
it will sink in.
maybe this time around,
your mind will finally grasp the idea.
and maybe this time around,
it will be etched in that delicate heart of yours.

i want you to tell me i’m beautiful, every day until i believe it. the truth is i was never beautiful, not until you said it, until you lied about it. i felt something when you said those words, something i’ve never been before. i’m different after you and i don’t know how to go back to being who i was.

Suicide.

Word *****.

Hypocrite.

Words pour from my mouth
When I learn of the thoughts
Running through his head

I love you
You're worth living
Don't think of suicide

One song
One song 'describing his life'
Triggered my word *****

His turn

Word *****
Pouring form his mouth

I love you
You're beautiful
A lot of fun

One song
Set him off
One song
Turning me into a hypocrite

Realization
Not caring about yourself
Does not mean
You don't care about
The people you love

s.j.d

Torture; the mark of a beautiful woman left on your brain.
Tearing chunks out but, it is fair game.
She had conscious to steal your heart in spite of potential pain.
But all she did was use you in light of her own gain.
You stuck with her because you love her, your feelings can't be tamed.
You'd break any cage for her despite how many hearts she's slain.
In retrospect it may be that you're the one to blame.
You made so many mistakes... too many to name.
You stayed with her because she had became
The only thing that made you feel whole with nothing to gain.
But gain, that's just it. Its personal gain.
You know when you're apart, its too hard to gain
Someone who loves you who shares that pain.
And even though she didn't love you, she certainly knew pain.

You look in the mirror and see every flaw
     on you face,
Then hold your head down for every little
     blemish, for all of your minute imperfections,
And that is all that you see, all you can
     think about when you watch people's eyes on you.

But we are our own worst critic,
     and how pessimistic it is
That we can only look at ourselves
     and see our worst.

If you haven't noticed, though, you've
     never truly looked at yourself.
You've only ever seen your reflection,
     a mere image staring back at you.

The truth of the matter is that you'll
     never be able to see yourself, only your reflection,
Something that can never fully capture you
     because a picture is only worth a thousand words.
You are worth at least a million.

So maybe you should stop looking
     at yourself in the mirror
And start seeing yourself through my eyes,
     then you will see that
You are beautiful.