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Poems

These cuts, these bruises in time shall heal,
Nothing overrides the pain one can feel.
The scars on our hearts are harder to hide,
Nor the guilty pleasure knowing we tried.

Scars arent meant to be pretty,
They represent a life nothing but ******.
They represent our suffering and pain,
When the blade runs so shall it rain.

Dont take my words to heart,
My words arent the painful part.
Put down the blade and think this through,
There are those out there who care for you.

This isnt the way, this isnt an option,
You act as though the world put you up for adoption.
Hear me now, know even I a stranger care,
Find the one thing you alone hold dear.

Repeat what it is that brings you joy,
Your life is meaningful and not some old toy.
I perhaps am not your savior this time round,
But I wish not see more blood spilt upon the ground.

We are human, we withstand an extent,
Look at yourself and see your potent'.
Let the blade go, your fists subside,
Its enough to have let it out and cried.

You are perfect
You are unique
You mean something
You deserve better
You are strong enough to go on
You are *you
OnwardFlame  Aug 2018
Hooded Boy
OnwardFlame Aug 2018
I found you standing in your doorway
It was yellow and dark
Your hair was down, your body as always
Thin
You looked like a beautiful statue
Illuminated by your darkness
And mine too.

We made love on a chair from the 90s
One of those wooden ones with a white cushion
You threw up on your arm afterwards
And I cleaned it up with a single paper towel.

There were infants in this dream too.

I drank mugwort tea and watched Bladerunner
Checking my phone every too often
Waiting for your call.


I imagine you fell asleep
I cherish you in the pit of my stomach
And at the core of my heart
The heart I’ve protected for quite some time.

I lean in, I glide out
I write and hope
Hang onto what good I have to believe there is

I know you will call me soon.
Donall Dempsey May 2015
"She...she. . .
loves me!

He says it just
- like that!

As if he had practiced it
and had got it

- down pat!

Or as if he were saying:
"Pass the coffee ***."

Or as if...
...I didn't!

I watch him
distorted in the coffee pat

a short stout man
a little man with a long face.

I want to laugh but
I have lost my laughter.

"My...sister! My...twin!...The *****!"

"Go!" I tell him "...just: go!"

He: went.

She felt like an android
or replicant rather..

She thought of her
self now

in the( "Absurd!" )3rd
person singular

as if she had fallen
out of her self.

He: gone.

All those moments
lost in time

making love to Wagner's
Tannhäuser

( screaming the house down )

always his laughter
her music

stars dancing over
the Bridge of Sighs.

A Santa incredulously
in a gondola

singing Santa Lucia.

"So...
me d'oh!"
she hummed.

This the little song
of her self.

"So mi doh!"

trying to keep its head
above the floodwaters

of belief.

Bladerunner rewound 99 times
to that END.

All those moments
...lost in time

like( cough)tears

in a glass of
red wine.