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rose Jun 2017
Jagged teeth
Crooked Lips
quickly taken down
Once I remember what they look like
Me and Rosey did a collaboration were I wrote a poem from my perspective and she wrote the same one from's the link to her interconnected poem Rosey is such an amazing poet and this was a wonderful collaboration :)
Kerri Apr 2016
The cold locket
She gave you
Slipped from your neck
Falling between
Your bare breast
And down past
Your broken heart

You hugged
Your knees
That they might
Save you
And hold you
For just a
Little while

Staring at your
In the
Lukewarm water
That stagnated
At your thighs,
A white
Porcelain refuge
Surrounded by
Moldy tiles
Was your solace

The salty leakage
From your
Forest eyes
Fell faster
Than the
Squeaky faucet
That never stopped

The cool
Air grazed
Your spine
And sent
A peppered
Patch of
Chill bumps
Down your arms,
But you
Didn't seem
To mind

All you
Could feel
Was the
Broken pieces
Of your heart,
S c a t t e r e d
In the water
Slicing your body
Like tiny
Razor blades
By their
Jagged, Uneven

With one
Flip of
Your toe
You whispered
As the necklace
That she
Gave you
And the
Pieces of
Your heart
That she
Took from you
Slid down
The drain,
Into the
Place Where
Broken Hearts Go.
A story of the place where most girls go to deal with their broken hearts: A good cry in the bath tub.
Erika Castaldo Feb 2016
I gently place the shards of glass back into
The frame
And ignore the way their jagged edges cut
My hands.
Caitlin Fox Dec 2015
Sugar, salt -
Decadent crystals are the mistresses to the tongue,
Seducing the mouth,
all the while trapped in the slave house of the body.
They take forms of warm and soft, frozen and slick
and in their sanguinity, they partner to become fuel,
insulating, warming the body.
Creating perspiration, spawning inevitable regret.
Drawing the body, the looking glass calls,
singing its poisonous Siren song
Luring it to the whirlpool that is the surely awaiting distended figure
There stands a sickening creature,
one the tides would not accept as bait
unless it can return to the sickly prey it was moments before.
And so this prey must slink away,
Bow down before its Goddess, its Queen
who declares it a “Disgusting fool”,
commands it to “rid yourself of this delicacy you live in,
this fantasy world
And relinquish your happiness.”
Because in order to be perfect,
bliss is not deserved,
not handed out,
not accepted.
Nameless Oct 2015
I remember getting THAT call... every second.
I remember the STING of the cold air, against my skin.
The JAGGED stains of dirt on my jeans
When I FELL to the solid ground.
...Like I was just STABBED.
Dirt COVERED my hands, that could be mistaken for blood.

I could HEAR the sound... of my heart shattering.
An EXCRUCIATING wave of pain.
I couldn't BREATH.
Choking out tears & Stifled SOBS, until I was nothing.
But, a SMALL mess on the cold ground.

My eyes flicker OPEN,
"Did I JUST die? Am I dead?"
I FELT dead, and empty.
I feel an AWFUL numbness, take over MY body.
I look AT the sky, through scattered tree limbs.
Specks of WHITE fall on me.
My hot face stings WITH every speck.
...with EVERY newly made snowflake
I now see MY breath in front of me.
Staring at the SNOW as it falls.

I am nothing but a SHELL,
I am NOTHING without her.
I live FOR her.
So... HOW do I learn to, live without.
I wish for DEATH.
But, I get CONSTANT waves of numb and empty pain instead.

I hate HER and I can't stand her.
...But I NEED her.
So, NO matter how much she hurts me.
I'd APOLOGIZE for it, and she's killed me so many times.
That if she got MY blood on HER hands, I'd clean them.

I just CAN'T un-love her.
If she murdered me.
The knife in my back, me falling to the ground.
I'd cry.
But, my last words would be...

I'm sorry, I'm SO sorry.

I'd say to her, "It'd okay, I still love you>"
Will Rogers III Feb 2015
Lines he creates upon the street
As his thoughts he tries to flee

Criss-crossed and jagged
Prayers they are staggered
[composed on January 25, 2014]
Kennedy Taylor Dec 2014
Your mouth is made of metal,
Your kisses taste like gold.
Your lies they strike like bullets,
But I enjoy the holes.

Your mouth is made of metal,
Your truths begin to rust.
Your blade edge may be jagged,
But I love the way it cuts.

Your mouth is made of metal,
Your words feel like steel.
Your smile strikes like a hammer,
But I’ll still be your anvil.
Poetic T Dec 2014
I look upon the empty frame
But I see, it speaks behind,
Behind me. In front there is no
Is on end, I breath, but I am exhaling.
What expelled.
I feel whispers in each ear,
"Telling me what I must"
Must, must, must.
I see what whispers, the reflection
That's not meant to be.
Muttered upon myself.
"The wood Is thirst"
"It shows yourself as meant to be"
"Reflection of that not seen"
I scream, but whispers are expelled
As I walk away.
I find in front of this mirror less frame,
Old nails
Points upon flesh.
"I find my self laying flat,"
Lacerations as I see a reflection
"In this Mirror less frame"
It is me laughing as I bleed upon wood,
I see that which took me,
It was me that **fed the wood...
its what we don't see that can reflect on us most
firexscape Oct 2014
Jagged edges, you were sharp sharp sharp
Baby, have you ever seen me look so dark?
I love you, don't you mind mind mind
**** me
Is love blind?
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