The New Beautiful

broken is the new beautiful
bruised and beaten
we wave our bleeding hearts like flags
our sky the darkest solitude
we lie
to ourselves
believe in the romantic fantasy
of a crazed lunatic
who could only make love to a pen
denying ourselves our small victories
we cry on unsympathetic shoulders
hungry mouths who claim to eat our pain
only to savor it on their tongues
never swallowing
spitting it back
in our faces
once they are sure they are worthy
of false sympathy
and second helpings
but whole is a bowl I want to eat from
I’m tired of salty tears
of seeing joy through the liquid reflection
of a head turned away
I wear the scars on my arm as trophies
proof of my existence
validations of my worth
they are my art
my story
they are love
they are joy
they are a life worthy of celebration
broken is the new beautiful
I am more than skin deep

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