darling, you are broken
and your ruins are the worst i have ever seen
but there's two ways to look at broken pieces;
one, in a museum, behind the glass, an
excavation, darling, you
two, as a jigsaw puzzle
i do believe you can be put together again.
i can see glimpses of the dawn
from between the cracks
in your skin
and i know that if there was one thing that
the universe could tell you,
it'd be that you look beautiful when you smile
but that's not what i'm here to tell you today.
i want to tell you
that you're beautiful when you're scarred;
but not when you're bleeding
and i want to gather all of your
one thousand pieces
putting them together,
because i know that something beautiful will come out of it.
this deep city fog
have one thing in common.
when this fog
sets upon a city
and embraces it
and doesn't leave until everything
is covered in dew.
and i have been perusing your ruins for
and i will not leave until you are covered
just to remind you that there will come a morning
but that's no reason
not to enjoy the stars.
when the ash of vesuvius buried pompeii
it was a tragedy;
but vesuvius didn't know
she'd immortalized a town.
darling, broken stories are the best ones
in two ways:
ruins are legendary.
broken stories have to be put together and
there's something about creating
that entices humans.
yes, darling, you'll be just fine.
one day, you'll let me write down your story and i'll be standing here,