you look beautiful.
and whether you will keep my words or not
we all know you’re the special one
because three variations of good came out of you.
out of all your mess
out of all that electricity
out those frightful eyes racing to fix everybody but yourself.
and ain’t that the problem, gem?
shined so hard on your outside
that your beliefs turned to easy threads
and your core was in want.
a walking semibreve.
i heard your suicide before you did
and cried at it to leave you alone. cried. cried. cried.
you couldn’t fix a broken home- of course you couldn’t.
you were a child
fumbling and fiddling with a sparse equilibrium
working odd hours to create a plan b
fumbled and fiddled and fevered
to create a safety net for your burning ideal
and almost killed yourself from the labour.
damn it, gem. what were you thinking?
body lean from weaving love out of hunger all these years
to make beauty out of anything.
today, you look so beautiful
but your soul never lies to me
it reminds me that a masterpiece
will always hurt you as much as you surrender to it.