chipped nails dig into the flesh of my hollowed spine, as i try to morph myself into something i can never be. molten suns drip into the cracks of my bones while i pray for the same thing over and over again with clasped hands and bated breath. my rosewater skin flushes with each article of clothing discarded, the bright red shame of exposure causing my insides to churn as silvered reflections bounce back into my midnight sky eyes.

they tell me that beauty lies inside, it resides in the eternal golden soul. but i've ripped off my skin inch by inch, to see nothing but voids of darkness that can never be filled. i tore off the layers of peritoneal tissue, till my hands grew sticky with blood; to find the gold dusted beauty that brewed inside of me. but just like all of me, there was nothing inside but rancid and fermenting cells; waiting for the final kiss of death. i screamed and shouted, till my voice drowned into the chasm of emptiness. my head swam with venomous lies and charring words, and my eyes brimmed with salt and failure.

i) where is the beauty?

does it lie in the camelias that bloom from the graveyard of words that die in our throats before we're even able to sputter them from our opal lips? does it lie in the rich velvet that slithers down the slopes of my arms? if you tell me it lies in myself, i'll believe you like a fool once again and shred the skin off my bones to find it all over again.

ii) where is the gold in my soul that the world promised me of?

i'll bring back king midas from the dead, i'll crawl back into his grave and pull him out of the entombed sepulchres till he makes me golden with his touch. i'll beg him to make me gold; till every inch of my crimson blood freezes to become lustrous and sparkling gold. tell me, will i finally be golden again? will all the dead spaces in me finally come alive in the mellifluous harmony of pulchritude?

iii) when will i finally feel the heart fluttering euphoria of being beautiful?

tell me, will being beautiful ever make me whole? will it satiate my ungodly desire to be brimming with tepid honey and syrupy nectar? but the truth is i can never be beautiful, because my body is twisted and rotting with undiluted ambition and caustic dreams that can only be severed and never grow. i can be many things, a liar, a pretender, a capricious lover, an unbeliever; but i can never ever be beautiful.

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a/n

soooo i felt like writing alot and i wrote this in my study break <3 hope you enjoy it :)) *disappears back into the pages of my textbooks*

also i am so sorry if i didn't reply to your mb messages, i've gotta go back to studies again :/ but i promise you i'll write you paras about your amazingness once i come back <33