I remember the nights you and I
would lie in the grass, staring at the
stars in the night sky and you would
pluck each star and place them in your
hair and I swear to god the sky was envious
that her children looked more beautiful
in your hair than in her arms.
I remember the days when you were
too sad to let a word spill out of your
lips, I could tell the thoughts in your
head had started to drip in your veins
and you were drowning, oh god, you
were drowning.
I remember the nights you and I
would talk so loudly, I could see
each word spark against the walls,
igniting fires in your eyes, and you
looked magnificent, the flames you
could wear without a flinch.
I remember the days when you
would shut every window closed,
every curtain shut, and every breath
of air filtered, I guess you tried to
lock out the world from touching
your raw skin, as if just a gentle
caress would break you right then
and there.
I remember the nights you and I
would paint, your favorite color
was gold, so we would adorn our
scars and leave them shimmering,
trying to pretty up the pain they
were birthed from.
I remember the days when the
paint had smudged and you
could barely breathe, we both
knew that beautiful things all
eventually get killed in this
cruel world, and the colors in
your eyes had begun to fade.
I remember the nights you and I
would scream, but lately your voice
had begun to crack and you told
me you felt so empty, as if you kept
dripping and nothing could replenish
you anymore.
And then you were gone. You left me,
you left me, you left me.
And maybe I should have watched
you closer, letting you know that
even flowers get sad sometimes.
Maybe I should have placed more
stars in your hair to take away your
dark thoughts.
Maybe I should have taught you how
to swim when all you felt was poison
in your lungs.
Maybe I should have lit your room on
fire to show you that there were friends
in your walls and not fiends.
Maybe I should have used better paint
to cover your scars.
And I am so sorry that you were too
gentle for this harsh world.
And I am so sorry that I can only
hope you are held better than the way I
held you.
And I am so sorry that all I can think
about is how much I want you to be
here again, even when I know you
were struggling every single day.
And I am so sorry that I cannot even
look at the stars, or the flames, or the
water, or even gold, without seeing
how much more beautiful the stars
looked in your hair than in the sky,
how you wore flames better than
candles, how you looked flawless
even when you were drowning,
and how you would shine so
brightly when you were painted
in gold.
baratheonpilled
kianamaiart
annaxmalina
germansingergirl
dededos
romaincrisis
