If I could, I'd give you a bouquet of galaxies,
For your existence is as beautiful as the cosmos in the sky.
If I could, I'd give you a bouquet of overflowing love,
so that way, you'd learn to love yourself as much as the sun loved the flowers.


But instead, you held a bouquet of pain filled with thorns,
Your soul, once filled with the gardens of wonder, now tainted with scars.
I loved you, but that was before you knew what's beyond this nirvana,
This nirvana of innocence and laughter, of purity and painlessness.


Soon, I promise to love you again just as much as I did in our youthful days,
To gather the things that symbolize your self-worth.
Even if it means collecting a handful of galaxies and giving it to you,
To make you realize the significance of your own being.


The universe is in your eyes and your eyes is the universe,
You are a constellation composed of stars, chaos, and everything beautiful.
Your birth caused a slight shift in the parallels of time,
So why do you keep saying you don't matter?


If the bouquet is not enough for you, I'd make the planets stop and ask them to align too,
But do they have to? When you're the reason they never stopped moving in the first place?
If the bouquet is not enough for you, I'd ask the black holes to close themselves,
Maybe then, your own black wounds would close too.


I wonder if I make you see the world beyond this mundane realm,
You'd appreciate yourself more.
I wonder if I gather enough galaxies to make you a bouquet of it,
You'd finally be able to love yourself truly.

-A poem by my 15-year-old sister Louise Eden Grace Onde.