pulchritudo

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

I am Death.

I know you fear me for I resemble a quasar that needs to be ired from a distance, there are so many legends of interstellar competency and cosmic living examples potent enough to send a chill down the spine of a sleeping corpse, that are there to keep up my primordial bad reputation.

I know, you want me to stay as far away from you as possible, because to you, I am the unknown infinity gazing upon you like the brightest night star, and unknown is hardly ever welcomed because it is not a moon like Phobos and deimos.

But, always .

Legends are legends

because they never existed.

I will be there to hold your omnipotent hand filled with creased flashbacks of asteroid setbacks; sheathing it from the cherubic fury of hell that burns of ion coming from the sun itself. I will hide your crying face in my astral enigma until all the ambrosial sobs of guilt and regrets are gone, when you'll be cut into stars and forced to leave the hand of mortals you once loved behind in stardust, I'll be there to embrace all of you in my never ending universe and slay all the comets of self loathing and hatred those very mortals tagged on you.

I will wear a sacramental cloak of sanctified apathy and my immaculate face will be expressionless, but, I'll tuck you in the safety of my assurance that is scented of a mother's warmth and a father's hidden tears and light up all your fused fairy lights until there is no void of darkness left. You'll not hear the beating of my heart, but, you'll feel two hands surrounding you as you descend on a nascent journey of another life which may be filled with blotchy paths and rocks but will be a learning lesson nonetheless.

When you will finally come to me, I will make sure to wipe away all the coffee stains of broken warehouse memories people painted on you and stamp my seal of sunflower approval and bandaid promises on your claret wounds, as I will heal your broken soul from all the misery escalating galaxies of unspoken words and cascading emotions.

I'll kiss your forehead to erase the lines of worry that have penetrated deep into your theistic body, easing the wrinkles all those hefty years have weighed down on you and wrapping you in the blanket of love and care. I'll make sure, all the suffering you went through will become a prismatic butterfly that you would fondly someday like a confetti rainbow dazzling in a lilac sky, while a beautiful smile will sit at your lips like a crown, and then, when you will look in the mirror that never lies, you will see the beauty you never thought existed in you.

, you are beautiful.

And dying may be painful, but death isn't.

I always had a weird

relationship with my

mirror. It used to be my

enemy once, so much so,

that we went at each other

with our whisper locked

knuckles, but, nowadays

we get along well, because

the mirror has sensed I have

discovered myself.

I was once struck by this question,

what did beauty mean to me?

Was it the soft and long eyelashes I saw often on television that always made my hands resemble a sandpaper, waiting to scratch cerise patterns of altruistic faith and hopeless sighs?

Or was it the numerous laughs that looked like fictitious lies being woven and sewn with a needle that pricked at every dusty corner of my hardly beating heart?

It must be the perfect hourglass bodies that are stapled around every nook and cranny of this soulless world and reminds me every hour of something that I'll never have.

Was it a certain way in which a person sat, or the way in which I was supposed to dress?

I clearly know there are rules for me to eat, sleep, walk, laugh and weep. Because as a human only the misery and empty stares at the ceiling are mine. When death finally kisses my lips the body will be named my corpse, but the body would have lived constructing the pillars of others expectations and demands.

Was it the artificial praises that circulated around me like planets do around their sun, waiting for recognition and dancing even on the smallest compliments?

Because my whole life, I just needed a little acceptance but I never realised I was seeking it from the wrong people.

For the longest time I believed beauty was non-existent and a mirage created by needy people who existed on sandcastles of faux bravery, just like the counterfeit smile displayed on my forever closed down face which makes me look like a spectacle displayed in the 'museum of dead'.

Because all of the aforementioned things never called me beautiful, and I never even felt so myself. I felt like a wallflower who was the odd one out amidst their peers, the nerd with huge glasses who no one wanted to associate with, the introvert with the deafening silence that chased people away like a talisman.

But then, I stumbled upon another saying that wrecked my universe in the most delectable way and made me the planet I am today.

Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder,

they say.

That's when my universe started revolving and I became a moon whose exile ended. Because I became the beholder and the beauty made its appearance.

What is beautiful to me

might not be beautiful to

many. But it doesn't mean

the object loses its ability.

It merely means others are

missing on a lot of things.

What is beauty meant to me, you may ask.

It is just a word that I carry

with pride on my shoulders

and a trust that surrounds my

auburn curls like cerulean

wisps of magic.

It is the smile I see when my father comes back home at night and sees me after a day of hard work. It is the cooking I get to eat every day that is filled with my mother's love.

It's the hazel sunshine that blesses my face to eternal sun-kissed polaroids and warms me even on the coldest of days. The sunshine that is scented of cinnamon promises and calls out to nature in the most primal way.

It's the pitter patter of rain I hear on a day when I need some music to drown my sorrows in. The day that calls for a fuzzy blanket wrapped all around me and the hot chocolate that lessens the saltiness of tears flowing down my cheeks.

I find beauty in a lot of things, because I decided I would make my life beautiful not ugly.

The freckles of a girl with

Rosemary eyes and dand-

elion smile. The confident

presence of person who just

confirmed their sexuality.

The puffy face of my best

friend crying in my embrace.

The wishes I receive on the

most anonymous occasions.

All this while I wondered why no one called me beautiful. But, all I had to do was look inside myself and there sat the girl waiting to applaud me.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The pictures used are not mine.

The moodboard and header is made by me.

#acc1

Venus:: beauty

Saturn:: death

#greekgods

Greek god:: Thanatos (personification of death)

Authors note

so, if you made it till here good job. Anyways, I really did want to do nyx but well, time was running and death is definitely the easiest thing for me to write about. So, I hope you had fun reading through another death based piece. Also, I don't know if you noticed but this piece is like broken into two parts. The first part is personification of death and second is a human speaking about their ideas of beauty. I hope that would help in understanding what I wrote better🤍

And, just a friendly reminder. You are beautiful and you are amazing so keep shining and trying your best :heart: