“Often the ugliest of scars are worn by the most beautiful people.”

All too often it’s the very bravest of hearts, that break so easily.

There is beauty within that I’m learning to see.

The colors of my soul do not need anyone’s approval, above my own.

You may never appreciate how beautiful it is to love and be loved, until your hearts been broken.

You will forever be the beginning of every poem I always wanted to write, but never knew how.

Hope always comes home, despite the weight it carries no matter how lost.

But you were not born to be a shadow my love, you were born to shine.

You were born a magnificent miracle, so stop accepting ordinary.

Love her hard, she will not break she’s been through so much and deserves nothing less.

And she loved the shooting stars, that promised nothing but a fleeting smile.

How beautifully I burn for you, That you will never feel the cold again.

What a beautiful disaster we create, what a magnificent madness we crave.

I fear nothing with you beside me, you are the light in my fire.

How I love to watch the way you wear the sunrise, while you wake from your dreams.

I may soak up your sadness and sorrows but how I live for your joys.

The only thing you ever take is my breath, the rest I give willingly.

Take this as your reminder. Not all heroes wear capes. Some wear darkness, some wear wounds.

You don’t learn from successes; you don’t learn from awards; you don’t learn from celebrity; you only learn from wounds and scars and mistakes and failures. And that’s the truth.

You deserve a heart that will love you completely, not the one that is already broken. You deserve eyes that will make you feel special, not the ones that are full of tears. It kills me to say this but you deserve someone better than me.

My scars all burned whenever I said I am fine.

Every stress leaves an indelible scar, and the organism pays for its survival after a stressful situation by becoming a little older.

Lost journals are steps back home, like the mending of broken bones, like scars that act as patches to my soul, like the measurement marks on my mother’s wall that show just how much I’ve grown.

I wonder how many scars I would see if I cut you open to reveal all your truths.

Speaking the language of scars, stars and wildfires feel lonely, till the time someone holds your hands and talks the same.