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Sadie Grace Jul 2023
I'm bruised but I'm alright
cut and bleeding but still in the fight
I'm needing a reason ~ maybe a few
to get through this season
on to something new

We're halfway through the year that wasn't supposed to come
Halfway through the fear
I won't succumb to it
The tears I've become numb to drip down my hard face
A scarred ankle ~ the place I ran back to when I thought He ran out of grace for me
Nat Lipstadt Jun 2023
You Are the Texture

…………………………

~ for all of you,
you, you poet~



Impasto

is a technique used in painting,
where paint is laid on an area of
the surface thickly, usually thick
enough that the brush or  painting-
knife strokes are visible.

Paint can also be mixed right on
to the canvas. When dry, impasto
provides texture; the paint appears
as if, to be coming out of the canvas.


<1:47pm>

Cut & Paste

is a technique used in poetry writing,
we refer back to our visions, heard words,
the eyeful, the earful, scents, the reads read,
all in the mind’s palette blended, thickly, but
the merging fused, every word~in~coloration,
it is unique, reincarnation, copying impossible.

The imagery, cut and pasted from thy heart and
soul, upon canvas, your poems~pieces each appear
as you-are-texture, you becoming out of, you, the canvas.

<2:04pm>


Postscript*
………………

it is not lost on me that the
scars, our words,herein,
we note too frequently, almost casually,
are, can be, the selfsame
words/painting-knife
employed
for our first and foremost
canvas we utilize,
is ourselves…
our bodies, ourselves
Fri Jun 23
2023
Nigdaw Apr 2023
never too near a vein
the pills
left where they can be found
and always someone on hand
to save the day
your silent shout
heard by distant crowds
who want to help
but don't know how
one day you have to realise
just how ******* mundane
life is
then you can join in
with the rest of us
maria Oct 2021
Be afraid of a woman who changes her hair

All this colours make you blind
It's not a hobby
It's not a style
It's a mental breakdown
or two
or maybe like ten
in a night

when a woman cuts her hair
She's about to change
her life
personal

Written on October 12, 2021
© ,Maria
WickedHope Sep 2021
They say girls like something shiny
And that may very well be true
Bigger is better but I'll take tiny
No matter the size I'll make do

Of course I have my favorites
Or those meant for special occasions
Getting dolled up I want to savor it
Adorning myself prematurely for my sins

Perhaps they get jealous of each other
So maybe I'll take them all out for display
They sparkle perfectly making me stutter
Stroking each longingly before we play
When I get this numb I know I'm supposed to be scared but I don't remember how.
Amanda Kay Burke Sep 2021
What is expected from me?
You were the half that chose to leave
I'll do my best
Be your friend
Even if leading to another dead end
Never thought we would wash up where we are
Two separate shores
Watching you from afar
Be truthful with me
That is what I most desire
Sick of the games
Frustrated
Tired
Fake way through a familiar apology
Promising to be the man I know you'll never be
Like a rolling dice
Have many faces
Expert at bluffing yet you're always holding aces
You gamble my love
About time you lose
My heart not an object to pull apart or use
I'm sick of betting my chips
The poorest hand
For you I go all-in
Don't even understand
I never was good at cards
At least that is what I'm told
Probably should cut my losses
Say farewell and finally fold
But what can I say? I guess I'm just a gambling type of girl...
WickedHope Sep 2021
Torn flesh haunts my nightmares and daydreams

My sanity slips away on crimson puddles that stain my thoughts

Numbness I used to fight with pain has morphed into a nauseating depth I want to fill with a scarlet flood to drown out the feeling
I feel so broken I want to **** myself.
Maniacal Escape Jul 2021
Enjoy the madness, its Mortemer's dance!
Swishing and turning its not wishy-washy,
Slashing and cutting the shapes! Oh lord the shapes!
Slicing and spinning then boom! Red confetti.
Look at him go in his marvelous trance!
Spinning and cutting the dance spins in circles as the audience cries 'now do the slip and slide!'
So he slides in real slow now he's in his mojo
He's feeling himself as he's breaking it down.
Its him and himself in his spotlight lit solo,
A pool of composure for his one final flourish;
A swish and a slit, moves never seen before.
The big grand finale and the crowd goes bananas!
There's roses on roses, they pile on the stage!
Mortemer's touched by such lovely affection from a crowd of individuals with no connection.
He'll lie on the stage and soak up the praise.
His roses smell sweet, and his roses are plenty.
A single tear,
a million cries,
a million fears,
produces a single sigh,
one cut,
leads to a million stitches.
Reopening old wounds.
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