Lately it’s been hard to live in my body.
My heart is full of skeletons. My palms
are bleeding from clinging to a love like
like the sharp edge of a knife.
But you kiss me like forgiveness. You
hold me like I’m hope. Like a promise to
leave more than scars. Your arms are gauze.
Loving you heals me.
When you find out that I am not sunshine but thick clouds that don’t allow for light.
When you realize I am not gold, I am gilded metal, and my cheap paint chips off more and more each day, revealing the dirty ugliness beneath.
You want me to be soft, clean, with no imperfections. But I cant hide the sprinkling of bruises and the plethora of scars that litter my body, hinting at the stories you would rather not hear.
You are going to realize I am merely dark memories and secrets, strung together with poor decisions and crippling impulsivity.
That is when you will leave me for someone transparent.
The only people I would care to be with now are artists and people who have suffered: those who know what beauty is, and those who know what sorrow is: nobody else interests me.Oscar Wilde (via psych-facts)