You told me
I was a diamond,
when all I felt like
was splinters of glass
entrapped under
the overgrown skin
of years of self-belief
stripped and worn thin.
You said I was a gem, a jewel,
but I'm not worthy to adorn your crown.
Not cool or anything.
Just glass coloured
in dried up marker pen.
I didn't feel worth praise,
It isn't easy to accept
when all you see is a scrawled
children's drawing, ripped and torn.
Not the work of art you once proclaimed.
Just a crayon image,
scraped onto walls
built too high.
I was feeling like
the dust that
crumbled to the floor.
The ruins that fell from the sky.
But when I'm with you my
thoughts bloom like flowers
under the summer sun.
Love runs through my veins,
and the colours blend into one.
A magical colour only normally
seen in the most vivid dreams,
and if life is but a dream,
then I want it to be spent in eternity,
looking upon that beauty.
When I'm with you.
When you sing to me,
I feel like someone.
I'm reminded of the light
I sometimes
turn on to guide,
when the pathway is dark.
I'm reminded of all the times
I've held you high,
and I think.
I'm not worthless.
I have love inside.
Thanks for reading
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