They were like stars.
Constellations erupting from every pore on her skin.
Aberrations that stole breaths, captured glances and imprisoned hearts.
Her body was aggrandized by the framework of jagged lines running down her arms.
Clusters of galaxies to show her the light when the darkness loomed over her frail little figure.
A map to show her where every embellishment lay.
A landmark to represent every bruise, every bullet and all the blood loss she'd endured.
A gold star to remind her that she'd survived the cuts her father had given her every night that he came home viley.
Alas, her strength was ephemeral, for she'd given herself that final star so that her father could have a piece of the constellation while she took her place in the night sky.
Underneath all the gratuitous words I used in this elegy,
The stars
Were nothing
But scars.
~Via
• • •
A/N She wanted to become a diamond in the sky, so she cut herself away.
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Paroxysm |✓
PoetryYou ask people about love, They tell you about heartbreak. You ask people about smiles, But when aren't they fake? You ask people about sorrow, And their words could fill oceans. So if you want to hear mine, Here's my whirlwind of emotions. • •...
