Most people have scars that run in
perfectly
              straight
                           lines
                     but
             mine
        are
hopelessly crooked
because
I hated myself too much
to be that careful

I hacked at the paper-white skin
that was my wrist
and drew
               thin
                      red
                           lines
that didn't seem to know
where they were going
or even where they wanted to go

Today
when I touch them
the pain is still
                        so
                            raw
­                        so
                  real
I can almost feel the tears
rushing down my face
and onto my arms,
mixing with the blood
trying in vain to heal me

When my arms were open
I didn't see blood
I saw
         hurt
                hopelessness
                               ­      fear
                                           insecurity
                               despair
                      doubt
              pain
       hate
anger
The pain is hidden
underneath the layers of skin
that rushed to cover the ones
that I had pierced through
but sometimes
I think
           it
              might
                         still
                                be
                        ­              there

I'm not afraid of heights
And I'm not afraid of snakes

I don't mind the dark
And small spaces aren't so bad

My nightmares aren't about demons
Or monsters or death

I'm afraid
Of the day he stops caring

I dread the day
He moves on

My nightmares are him not being there
And not having his hugs or kisses

My biggest fear
Is losing the one thing I can't live without

Because how can something live
Without the sun?

i wrote so many poems,
for a girl who'd never see,
i stopped writing poems.
that girl is dead to me;

i lost my power and source of thought when writing,
she was gone,
nothing to hold on to,
only those three words,
that traced the page,
over and over;

i
love
you

~ d.a

I know you deeper than footprints
forming pock-like lakes in mud
after rain, mud that cakes between
teeth in boot and tire treads, mud that
tastes like 7-years-old and a dare.

I feel you heavier than tongues
made thick with alcohol and regret,
tripping like that one time I said
“I love you” to your full name,
first-middle-last syllables falling
together foreign and unfamiliar.

I see you brighter than bonfires
break dark with sparks that testify
to the momentary brutality of
hope, to the truth that smiles fade
in time with the passing of warmth.

I hear you sharper than winter’s sting
on blushing cheeks, cracked lips that
bear, and bare say bring it. Bring
flood, bring torrential, bring avalanche,
bring cataclysmic. I’m ready.

~ d.a

He who would break an oath
With an innocent face to the dying
Will suffer the same fate
Spit upon and forgotten
In cursed ground lying

Those who inflict pain with pleasure
So too will be their life
Falling high to low
Snared by evil deeds
In a net of burning lies

Destinies hand will rest firmly
Upon the wicked shoulder
So in the pits of hell forever more
Will this lost soul smolder

The soul begged for another chance
Destiny answered
There will be no consideration
Turning her face away
No mercy or pity offered
For the cries of desperation



This poem is copyrighted and stored in author base. All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), Tammy M. Darby