I was with a man who would bake glass shards into strawberry shortcake
I would thank him while biting into the frosting and the fragments
It became our routine
Sugar and sutures went hand in hand
Sometimes I think I craved the pain. Perhaps I earned the shredded esophagus and internal bleeding.I never had to part my lips.
He was the one who walked away after all I swallowed. I begged him to come back. Wrote poems about my hurt. He was my home.
But even I found others.
Other ways to get the glass fix.
It was never my intention to keep swallowing shards
But with a spoonful of sugar...
I still cry from all the **** damage that's been done, by myself and by the others. With my soft tissue shredded, I see so much ****. Sometimes I can feel my vessels thumping underneath the spidery scar tissue. Phantom pains stab and hot panic puddles in my chest like a pool of blood.
It's moments like this that I wonder if I'll ever heal.
Feedback is greatly appreciated! Everything I write comes from a deeply personal place but I worry I sometimes come across as trite because I don't fully let my guard down and the poems fall flat. Any comments good or bad would mean the world. Thank you!
Why does the moon cry,
When the sun leaves her sight,
Does she not know,
He shines for her bright!
Want comes before doubt knocks at your door
Before meeting you I have
Hope for the future
Trust from the people
and love of the unknown
But after you left I have
Taste the emptiness of despair
Doubt the words of the people
And fear of the unknown
Where's the hug I've needed in the hard moments?
Only verses embrace my mental instability.
I would wish some super escape ability,
But I've lost even the power to wish...
No hope for the Bohemian...
What meaning does this phrase hold?
My lone madness has finally driven me mad,
Every line is sad, mad, bad that ever I had had, "had".
Ambiguous doubts assure my hopeless future goals.
Every step of mine has fallen in pity pit-holes,
But a writer easily accepts what is written...
What is waiting for the Bohemian?
Twelve months had passed,
I could still remember how it lasted.
It was a sudden goodbye,
Was your love a lie?
The pain seems endless,
My life seemed so meaningless.
What could be worse than being left alone?
Tell me, I want to hear it more.
So, I could understand how hard you fought,
For the love you were saying before.
So many questions in my mind,
Questions that gave doubt in my heart,
And then He came, gave answers
Answers to the questions I have been longing for.
He saved me.
Saved me from this mess,
Saved me from this chaos.
It was Him, my saviour, the greatest of all.
Kept me with His arms, embraced me with the warmth of His love.
Who am I?
I who thinks he can live
Hopefully I doubt the purpose of life
Hopefully, I can escape the pain of purpose
Dying is bitter, but death is sweet
Living is better, but life is deceit
You truly never will leave us
Life truly is still meaningless
I hope I can find reason
I doubt I will reach Eden
Foolish is the wise
Who does not experience his wisdom
So too am I a fool
To doubt the truth
Hopefully I can be happy in this life
Doubtfully I hold tightly this knife
Hope is the strength of the blind
Doubt is the reality of knowledge
From the ruins I could be led
But only if God was dead
Catch up on
What’s run into the ground.
So much to do
So far behind
Laundry, yard work
Constantly on the grind.
But fear comes
Banging on my door
Is this real,
Will I plummet to the floor?
Pushing too hard?
Will I be ok,
Can I let down my guard?
Or is this already
The end of my rope?
I thought I’d healed
And could hold onto hope.
Life is funny
Playing tricks with my mind
I hope to survive
And not become—left behind.
(c) Allison Wonder
Past mocks me
future ridicules me
today doubts me
now I can only turn
to true moments
a glimpse of recognition
that never surpasses as success
but sustains me
to try to find my worth.