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Daisy Rae Sep 2017
"What's holding you back?"

             *
*   I don't want to give up something
  
       I've worked so hard to hold together...
it will eventually fall apart
topacio Sep 2017
write a poem.
its been two long years
and i fear I don't even know what a poem is.
i fear i've never even written one.
i look back at my fleet and
i see forced words
prematurely picked
from their fields.
****** into the arena as dogs
with their tails glued to their thighs.
i fear i have succeeded at preparing
a dish of underdeveloped corpses.
Vale Luna Jul 2017
It took me years
To build myself
Molding my shape
With ***** fingerprints
And a dull butter knife
Smoothing out
Every rough edge

I spent my lifetime
Crafting this delicate clay
Into something
That didn't hurt my eyes
And when I was done
I baked it solid
Roasted
Into a sturdy piece
Of breathing art

And then you came along

You begged
To get close to me
Close enough
To see me
Close enough
To touch me
So I let you
Carefully - of course
Until seemingly
Your soft hands
Were gentle enough
To hold me

But as time passed
You became a bit more…
Careless
Careless
So every time
You picked me up
Part of me was left cracked
Before you set me back down
And your hands
Seemed to bring more hurt
Than comfort

I began to resent you
But I didn't dare say it
Because I was sitting
In nostalgia
Remembering the days
When I really was
A work of art
In your eyes

And yet, eventually
Your carelessness
Rotted to recklessness
Until one day
You dropped me -
The slivers
Of my little clay heart
Scattered on the floor

Despite your best efforts
It wasn't enough
Not even
All the King’s horses
And all the King's men
Could put me back
Together again
I was hopeless
And the fragments
You tried to glue back
Were worthless

What am I now?
Art? No
I'm just a sad lump
Of clay shards and glue
Disfigured beyond belief
An eye-sore
For anyone who looks at me

I wish I could say
That my shattering
Was entirely your fault
But I blame myself
For ever letting you
Get close enough
To touch me.
Trying to be perfect
Wake up in precision,
Yet the goal is a precipice.
Scale the wall
Be yourself
Perfection is never the absence of a crack;
Rather it is embracing the cracks as you add a little more glue.

I am shattered, being pieced together

I start to embrace myself--to be confident every day--without anxiety, overthinking, or the crude part of myself that says I will never scale the wall.
Piece by piece
One step at a time

One day I will release myself from choosing what I know rather than what lies on the other side

alarm goes off
Wake up
Breathe
Step
Started with comparing myself and shortcomings. Realizing life is a wall for me sometimes
Haruharu Jun 2017
I left my heart of glass in your hands,
trusting you would keep it safe.

You dropped it on purpose.

I'm now picking up the broken pieces,
cutting myself on some.

The best memories have the sharpest edges.

But I'll glue it back into one piece
with my bruised hands.

The cracks will only show how much I once loved.
Scarlet Niamh Apr 2017
Everything is falling apart again;
my head won't create the words I need
to sustain my fragile state of mind. I
cannot even bring my thoughts forward to
help you understand, or write them into
something cohesive. I am completely
unable. I am terrified that this dreaded
block on my hands will never lift and
I will never get the power of words back
which I use for entirely everything.
~~ Time to wait. ~~
The Napkin Poet Jan 2017
I still look for her in you.
You told me you could dig blue,
I said, "I dig you."
We shouted "Boo!" and "Happy Holidays" too.

But somehow I felt she was still in my queue.
What a picture for myself I drew,
Always focusing on the morning dew.
Labeling my fantasies as true,

Still figuring out how to shake her glue.
You were new, so I thought I’d be able to see you through.
Ravanna Dee Dec 2016
?
"Why did you stop trying to fix me?" she asked.

"Because, you can't glue someone back together when they won't hold still long enough to dry."
From a book I'll never write. :/
JR Rhine Jul 2016
I want the poetry to mean something tonight,
              as I pace in my bedroom for hours
                                      under jaundiced fluorescent light.

                     I want to write something profound and true,
something of solvence to rid the demons to which I'm glued.
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