Emma 53m
It is in moments like these that I dream of you.

Why is it that I miss you most

When we are together?

You are like the edges of a broken bottle;

I want to pick you up,

And think that I can see through you.

But you slice through the pad of my finger

So blood beads, salty and warm

Sliding down skin

And falling into nothing.
Matthew 3h
You watch as the blood from wrist trickles onto your carpet.
Paying no mind until it starts to stain
I whisper,
"I'm sorry; please help me"
You roll your eyes and usher me out
of your comforting, inviting home
into the cold, desolate outside.
Crimson tears form in my eyes
raising my voice,
"I need your help!"
Instead, you give me an ignorant smile
before you slam the door.
Peering through the window,
I see you cover my bloodstain with a rug.
I'm outside;
left to drown in the scarlet rain.
Just an average poem
As the writer wore away page after page,
a swelling of maddening frustration grew.
The parchment soaked in the dark ink,
and pockets of **** seeped through each word.
There is desperate power in written verse;
They know this, yet the pen rages onward.
The writer pays this debt in full,
in flesh and blood, as one does.
Stories must be told, the price is high,
but silence cost ever more.
even the most beautiful roses
have thorns.
you find one you love
you care for it as though
it is your only child.
but despite how well
you treat your flower
one wrong move
and it ****** you.
it happens in an instant.
before you can even
recognize your mistake
youre bleeding.
blood trickles down the stem
and it stains the leaves
as a constant reminder
of the time your beloved rose
hurt you.
so love your flower , love it endlessly.
love it with no fear of hurting
no fear of pain.
jaz 2d
suicide pact? you smiled, i laughed
    we had no idea back then.
how convenient, the blades and knives kept
            tucked in the folds of a purse.
    how easily flesh gives way,
                blood wells.

or;
    when she cut my palm,
        and her thigh
            and we walked back into the party
                    Blood dripping down wrists and thighs
    don’t tell him
        i wiped the blood from her leg,    
                i licked it from my palm.
the crimson rivers that flow through my veins
resemble the way tears run down my cheeks
like there's a dam within me
and it's constantly on the verge of breaking.
the cool undertones
that show through my pale skin
can tell you so many stories.
each capillary.
can recall an experience
of almost breaking through my epidermis
the ever so violent slashes
now faded
but still fresh in my mind.
c 3d
Ink is spilling
From my skin
A melancholic signature
Of me abstaining
From free will
If blood is the price for freedom,
Then kiss is the currency for love.
Both are to be achieved with passion.

If you are the reason for my joy,
Then I am the reason for yours too.
Both of us are inseparable.
Left alone to go insane, haunted every night
Trust no longer exists, it lies there beyond dead
Violated, beaten and bleeding, so wrong it must be right
They were supposed to bury Me, My brains run red

Substance calms Me, the images stop, for now
So addicting, I lie at ease, no longer wondering how
I can no longer see, and something appears to be missing
My brain bleeds black, My legs are gone, I am dying
Written 12/31/18
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