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I know that I took a switch blade and cut a hole in the fabric of your heart

I know that I have no right to ask for the forgiveness to patch it up

I know that you no longer recognise me and that I no longer recognise myself

I know that I took our Heaven and turned it into Hell

I know that when you touch me, in your mind you see me touching him

I know that I will pay dearly for this sin
mistakes cause damage
I saw the first calf being born
how the cow licked its forehead
its eyes
its legs
I watched it have trouble standing up
then walk better and better
in search of the stable door
and licking my dad's hand on the threshold

I saw all this
when I was a child
and father did not know why I was crying

but I caught a glimpse of it
(I only tell you now, daddy)
in the blade of the knife
you used to cut the umbilical cord

and as it flowed
the blood knew it would be touching that blade
one last time
Sarah Flynn Oct 20
I am addicted to
rough *** and masochism.

I used to be addicted
to self-harm.

I learned to live without the feeling
of a blade against my skin,

but now I need the feeling
of warm hands against my skin
where my blade used to be.

I'm not recovering.
I'm still hurting myself.
all that changed is the weapon
that I choose to do it with.
-elixir- Oct 6
The lush green blades,
pierced me with shades
of heaven, as they swayed
in the wind. I stayed
to see their dance,
and with every glance,
my heart rejoiced
as they carried on, poised.
so this is something that I got inspired as I was drawing for the Inktober challenge the other day. The prompt was blade, so I took blades of grass as my take on it.
Ellesora Rue Sep 13
Truth is good
Truth is accurate
Truth is right

but Truth
it is a blade
it cuts
it opens old wounds

The Truth
it is final
Hermes Varini Jul 24
Thou, dishonorable Highlan' skellum,
Thy dreary whunstane shall not see again!
Nor thy unworthy Clan Banner,
Yet my Blade!
Yet my Blade!
Gleaming here, owre,
At auld Stirling Bridge,
Wi' fiery bluid imbued,
Graving still deep mirk stane,
Under yon Steel Glare
Ne'er to wane!
Another poem of mine, still in a medieval Scottish tone, and mentioning the great battle of Stirling Bridge in AD 1297. There is a semiotic variant of this martial-philosophical composition.
alexis Jul 16
“i love your neck,” he whispers as his hand curls around the pale flesh delicately. careful not to bruise in places easily seen.

“i love your neck,” he whispers kissing the bruises he left behind. red, purple, yellow decorating it like a necklace.

“i love your neck,” he says gripping it tightly as he thrusts deeper in your body. your breath is caught in your throat, you struggle to breathe.

“i love your neck,” he says pushing you against the wall- bruises are a normal sight, it doesn’t scare you anymore, not to breathe.

“i love your neck” he says as he leads you to the scaffold. you think of the blade at your neck and wonder if it loves yours too.
16. julliet 2020
3:44 am.
my cutter,
my body, her cutting board

sliced by tongue and fingernail,
any handy human implement,
she sculpts me to
her eye's reconfiguring delight

grabs my wrist,
and my face
in her hands grasp-embraced

unblemished once,
now becomes all scarred tissued,
no guise, no lies, no bearded mask,
no disguise - all forsaken

hidden hardened skin,
speckled red/white translucent,
she kisses with adoration her
heart designed
objet d'art

no better blade than she,
with every cut,
transformed, she becomes
my devotee,
I, her escapee,
I am her, she is me,
inseparable, my every command,
she obeys

for our love
cuts both ways
Lyn-Purcell Jun 29
Bells sing at death's dance
Cloak of galaxies vapors
A scythe of petals
Just a short haiku I wrote based on a dream I had
of a sword with charms and bells.
Tommorow, I'll be dropping a third letter of my six part letter series!
It was so sad for me to write, but it will add another layer to the growing story
Heres a link to the three that I have written already:
The Screen [Intro]:
Meihua's Message:
Yuyan's Message:
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