A Beautiful Pain Poem by Emma Atkinson

A pain blossoms in my chest, beautiful as a rose,
Petals spun delicate as sugar, rippling as when a stone hits the water,
Red, red, as my lips that open and close,
But say nothing,
They part in an ecstasy of pain as thorns pierce my heart,
And I bleed crimson tears, who sigh as they ring,
Unearthly in their beauty,
Gemstones set within my ribcage,
Glinting with a secret that has not yet touched another human ear,
The missing page,
I keep folded within the chamber of my soul.
It is a melody I have never heard,
And yet I know the words as if they were born in the dawn of my first thought,
An ancient, unspoken word,
Whose flavor I have never tasted,
Soft as the cream my mother whipped with her worn, knowing hands,
And I have waited,
Waited so long, wondering if something as beautiful as this,
Could ever exist.
And it does, it does.
I know it as it lights like fire in my throat,
A gentle burning, made of smoke,
Whose fingers curl around my neck,
As if to say it is alright, it is alright if I choke,
Because to die from the sheer beauty of a thing,
Is better to have lived and never known it.
And this, this beautiful, indescribable beauty fashions itself into a red, red necklace
Encircling my untouched throat,
My fingers trace,
As I gulp and gasp each breath of this air
I am unsure how to breathe.