There was once a boy
His eyes shined like crystal, a picture of a Tuscan sky.
There was once a girl, whose hands were like a flower, they blossomed flowing gracefully across they keys of a tuneless piano, with undisputed elegance.
Her eyes, like the coals of a growing fire, burned those who dared to come close.

He made her monsters cower away, effortlessly.
He outlined her troubled, darkened soul with a punching neon green,
and enveloped her in lavender.
He taught her how to look up at the blackened sky, and not see an endless void,
but instead admire the stars as they shined, like his eyes.
And the boy loved these stars

And the girl loved the boy with her entire soul.

But she was nothing more than scraps of tattered paper,
her treacherous past written across the crumpled lines.
She was bruised, scarred, blackened,
And he was a brand new canvas,
clean, and white,
waiting for the right shade to cover him.
And she knew that someone else, who was brighter, with effortless beauty and eyes like the summer leaves would fill the empty canvas with vibrant colors she couldn’t even begin to imagine.

And the boy loved those colors with his entire soul.

So the girl locked herself in her heart shaped box,
and threw the key to the endless, void of night.
She did not see the stars.

She never stopped loving the boy.

Her heart did not weep for long,
or shrivel like a tomato left out In the sun
The tattered pieces of paper, scattered with the past she had rejected, mended themselves and formed and elaborate mural, and she saw the beauty of pain,
just as the boy had taught her.