he draws orchids over his lips
to hide the bruises on his wrists
his cheeks cut from their sharp breaths
the twisted fingers upon his neck
delicate eyes that hold the secret dreams
in which he resides tangled in his broken limbs
they've torn each flower from the ground
and grabbed at his hair, yanking the sunshine
weaved between his crown of crescents
painted him in his cries
they bottled his endless tears
and grasped his shattered pieces
they scooped him out and turned him in
until he was sure, nothing could be left
a ghost of a boy beaten black and blue
maybe bruises can be orchids too
you're beautiful. your scars and your bruises will never change that. you've hurt and you've survived. it's okay. that is enough. you are enough. you are so much more than good enough. keep breathing precious lovelies. you have the right to be happy.
YOU ARE READING
lovely | poetry
PoetrySometimes my voice dies in my throat, buries itself beneath waves of crippling suffocation, burns itself out as cold hands tear at my laced skin. I have smiled while my eyes have cried and pleaded, my wrists numb, my lips wobbling and blue, and star...
