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kiran goswami Feb 15
Poetry is not the blood you bleed,
Poetry is the bandaid you need.
N E Waters Nov 2015
I am an open wound in a world of bandaids
Galbraith Frase Dec 2017
Paper cut,
Criticizing the amount of aches
And several heartbreaks
Alone, will it survive?

A blank sheet could've been so plain,
To cause a hissing pain
Through the skin, it climbed

Paper cut,
Raw demons under our beds
Messed up thoughts in our heads
Coincidences, it's going to make--you wonder why you even try

Velvet tinted fingertips
Each touch may vary to lost a grip
How does the love runs dry?

Paper cut,
A fountain claw has it senses
Has the right to demonstrate its defenses,
Creating our "must-haves" above the gleaming stars

Burried promises and surfaced platforms drew a raid,
Choked out confessions became my aid,
Will you be able to clean the scars?

Paper cut,
Scrolling a list of autumn lies
Scanning with my blood-shot eyes
All these nightmares are in under attack

Just because I told you what and how I felt,
Doesn't mean my wounds needed help,
Please, do not expect my swollen lips to say "I Love You" back
My "Gianni & Kyle" playlist is on
Janae Jul 2017
I trusted you
I believed that you had my back
thinking about it now
there was none of that

I was yours and one day
you left me
you lied
and you hurt me more
than I ever knew you could

I don't know why
and I don't care
because nothing could fix
the bond we shared
Bethany G Blicq May 2017
I watch the destruction
of your self
and wonder
will I ever see my friend again?
or will you be lost
in the slow motion
explosion;
just know
you never have to be
alone
self contained
isolated
hiding imminent implosion.
Just reminisce with me
of those times
we were
together
full of dreams
and laughter.
Written in 2017.
Bethany G. Blicq
Sarah Apr 2017
What can only be described as the sound of velcro being ripped away from felt, was similar to the way I ached when you walked away.

Quick  almost painless but a slow burn as the feeling settled.
Then, nothingness.

But as I try to peel the bandaid away like my protective shield being dropped. The wound you left isn't as visible.

If I press hard enough, my faded memories come back.

pain that I know all too well.

Then I realize no matter how hard I try to heal, the sensation will always be prominent. The scar may be gone but your dark memory lingers.
Written 5/15/16
Crimsyy Feb 2017
Nicotine

All these useless words
I'm using for you
are the bandaids
that soothe my wounds
when you aren't there
to make me feel as if
my breath will never cease to be
and my heart will never wish
to cease its beat beat beat.

Lately, I've taken the form of
anticipation,
but you know I'm
not very patient,
and my anticipation is
in need of liberation.
Darling, when we meet again,
I will lose it all,
forget my sanity;
I will *smother

smother smother
you in love.

- Crimsyy

**A/N: Thankyou for reading!  Please leave a comment of what you think about this poem...your comments mean a lot to me ^.^ Also, for this poem, I left some punctuation out on purpose.
Viseract Feb 2017
Impatience is the impairment of patience
Where it is imperative, should be noted
That the implication of impatience
Is the lack of it thereof,
That is, patience
And not having the time to
Improve upon waiting

It's not necessarily a bad thing
Sometimes it's best to rip the bandaid quickly
Lots of impish little "imp" parts within words :)
Jordan Fischer Jul 2016
Avoiding positivity,
You feel like dirt,
So you decide to sweep yourself under the
rug.
Hiding and cowering described as
Self enlightenment

Trying to get relief from the immense pain
that suffocates daily,
You act out with a bandaid
The short relief, blessed relief.
However great it might feel,
Only distorts the reality of effectiveness.
Sudden relief mimics an intense high

It's time to understand that all
Bandaids,
are fleeting.
Some cause more than they cover
Countless marks of addiction and desperation,
cover your skin
Come out from under the rug
It's time to heal
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