Tucked behind the golden locks,
that cascaded down her face
Were the footprints of dancing sunbeams,
that left freckles in their trace

And a pair of vibrant green eyes,
that flowed like twin creeks
Showed that she had been broken,
as they flooded her cheeks

Shattered by a voice, from which,
she could never break free
And he whispered in her ears,
just like the buzzing bee

His voice was rough,
and his every word stung
Much like the devil himself,
he bore a forked tongue

He made her believe, that she,
would never be enough
And he insisted on making,
every day tough

He told her she was damaged,
unwanted and broken
Like a loose seam, she came undone,
with every word spoken

Her glossy green eyes,
behind luscious locks of gold
Fought an unfair war, against the lies,
her anxious mind told

Announce that you love me. At least to your best friends. I can’t bear to think that I’m not your trophy to be proud of. I can’t accept that my ray of light becomes dimmer day by day. I can’t stand the thought of sitting like a tomb in your soul, camouflaging with darkness that engulfs all sense of love. I can’t swallow the fact your face didn’t spark when you said I was your everything. I can’t comprehend when my existence in your world ain’t shimmer like a dewdrop catching the sun.

Announce that you love me. At least to your siblings. I don’t want to stay timid in the darkest compartment of your heart. I refuse to admit that you ignore me in four days — summer, autumn, winter and spring; three days — yesterday, today and tomorrow; two days — day and night; one day — everyday. I deny that you don’t feel immortal anymore when I linger around you. I oppose the idea of maybe your love to me is paperweight.

Announce that you love me. At least to your heart. Do my picture still be your favourite wallpaper? Do your heart palpitates everytime you hear my name?  Do my warm embrace puts an end to your insecurities? Do your mind still replays our memories of spending time together when sun came out, and we were miles away from anywhere? Do. I. Actually. Exist. In. Your. Universe?

I never doubt my love to you. It is you who should stop underappreciating me, and start loving again.

Chipped or ***** or dying
and you can't look past it.
What's special about new? Or is it
that it is
unused?
How much beauty
can you see
in damage?
In use?
I'd like to believe you see worth
in the imperfections
of me.
But what do I know
of your soul, really? And who is to say
you will leave me in any better shape
anyway...
All I can do is hope.