when i write, i want you to imagine all the beautiful things in the world crumble do wn

not because i hate it but because i want to be remembered like stars exploding into a thousand

glittering pieces bright and beautiful forever and ever

sempre bella

and i want to bring tears to your eyes

i want these hands to be able to produce something

that opens your heart and finds the most secret part of you

because that's what

poetry does to me

and honestly this is a useless task

no one reads a poem that doesn't make sense

not even to it's author

what i'm trying to say is

when you think of me, when you think of beautaliton

i want you to think of beautiful words strung together so perfectly

i want you to see

galaxies blazing forward into nothing

eyes like glass that shatter when she smiles

where to now, do you know?

being happy and sad and still wondering how that's possible.

and it's okay if you don't understand,

it's okay if you don't know how to speak the language of impossible dreams

i don't either, but i do like pretending

and i know i'm not full of clever metaphors and heartbreaking sentences

i don't want to be.

i want to be

this

strung-out and strange and confusing and

it's like looking in a mirror.

so i think i'm going to keep this.

keep it close to my heart

because this page

is me covered in ink

sempre bella

always beautiful