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B Chapman Jul 13
I'm warped and twisted,
Laid bare across sharp edges,
Knees torn open,
Kissing your ****** knuckles.
I wear your hand around my throat
Like a satin bow.
Tighten the ribbon,
And never let go.
B Chapman Jan 18
So many times throughout the day,
The pain supercedes even the brightest of moments,
And screams catch in my lungs as my smile freezes,
And tears jump to my eyes as I fight to breathe,
But I do,
and it quakes,
and I grow numb for a moment,
Sure that I'm dying,
And nobody knows it.
The moment passes into a dull, familiar ache,
And the tears fall again,
Just to be wiped away.
The fear grows cold and solidifies again,
As I promise myself I won't give up,
When I want to give in.
B Chapman Jan 16
I'll be the gasoline and the match,
You can be the bridge and the water below,
My laughter comes quick,
And death burns slow.
B Chapman Jan 14
Depleted and tired of pleading,
Unfocused and incapable,
Simultaneous logical advocating.
Sustaining for minutes and moments,
But time is always so fleeting.
Laughter dying on my lips,
before pain and a grimace.
Promises and answers whispered,
Hope swelling but bursting so quickly.
Scars and burns on my skin,
Attempting to calm the agony within.
And tumbling, always falling, never finding the ground,
But when I do,
Will it crush me?
Or will I hit water and drown?
B Chapman Jan 13
I have to stop falling in love with strangers,
The way their smile slides into view so slow,
When they call me beautiful in sign language and don’t realize I know.
When they leap past, dressed in all black,
Their own cryptic, creeping steps and clinging to the shadows- midnight at noon.
Scowls and imploring eyes and fists itching for my throat,
Teeth sinking into tongues and lips, grasping desperately for control.
Confused if it was their gasp or my own when the light catches just right,
Nervous laughter as they mention wives before a disappointed sigh.
Fantasy and fiction churning real beings into metallic dreams,
Magnetic storms at their energy,
a missed soul connection,
and Shadow Knights.
B Chapman Jan 12
I feel most alive
Standing on the edge
Singing for death-
A siren of the dark.
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