The shards of a heavy dagger
Remain in me every moment.
You reached into my wound,
Wanton and haggard.
I gazed at the jeweled weapon
Tucked out of view
And the gape in my chest
I thought I outgrew,
Covered and sutured,
Well treated and healing.
But like a cold draft entering a weak archway,
You plunged deeply, weightlessly,
Leaving me reeling.
Poking, prodding,
Pointing out my shards and my scars.
I told myself I removed all of you
And the dagger soaked with love's poison.
You showed me shards from
The poisoned blade still linger,
The truth lies deeper than
Where I can put my finger.
You touched my wound with
The force of words.
How it stings with the sharpness of pain.
Twinging inside me,
Twisting like ivy,
Welling my eyes like a curse there to find me,
Pointing out my poison and shards,
Fiddling with the sutures of my scars,
And like a haunting winter's chill,
You left as quickly as the blood was spilled.
LPpoetry Apr 14
Blood on the floor,
Knife driven in,
Feel the cold metal,
Piercing through my skin,
You watch me suffer,
You spit in my face,
‘Til I can no longer feel,
Life’s sweet embrace,
Redrum in your eyes,
Red blood on the floor,
It seems that for me,
Life has shut it’s door.
bret Apr 11
i am too aware of my own image to be who i am.


i dont know who i am


i shaved my beard off the other day.
ive never made a bigger mistake.
i look like a child.
i am a child.
i never want to look like a child.

my neck looks bigger
my face appears to be melting.
i guess thats what
was under all the wool.

i dont have the balls to live like bukowski
and if i did
i wouldnt be bukowski anyway.

ill be honest in saying
i dont know anything
and the things i have learned
came at the expense
of something i thought i knew.
theres a knife in my stomach
two right hands around the grip
two lefts pointing blame at one another
Kathryn Rose Apr 6
Appearing in the dark,
You wrap around my love,
In greedy form.
A knife in my heart, I'm bleeding.
Frozen, watching you.
Laughing, no one seems to notice you
Sitting with ease, on his lap.
Unknowingly, my legs take me,
quickly,
out of your sight.
The bathroom mirror reveals
The true reflection of the woman
Living in fear.
Build my confidence, glass.
Erase the flutter in my stomach.
Stitch the wound in my heart.
Strong, beautiful woman -
Saunter back to your seat.
Sit with his friends,
Strangers to you.
Look in his golden eyes.
See his truth,
She disappears.

Imagine the present, reality.
Forget not the honesty.
She does not exist any place,
Other than your fragile mind.
the nights alone, spent lurking.
swimming in another man's souled voice.
is when I apologise for the aching marks I bruise upon myself.

because I've rinsed my heart, clenching my fists.
then ringed it out until there are no senses to swallow
the desperate urge for pain,
from someone else.

to numb the knife of loneliness
which I caress in the dark, then slit.

then  I dance this pen,
until it's ink recklessly glides upon bare lines that
pleaded desires sing for pain.

to wipe off this blood, that won't dry
until it has someone to scar for.

but again I'll still stay slicing.
blaming ghosts, dreams, hallucinations.
to wound up isolation.

choke out any last lingering tears
to dilute the escaping blood
in attempt to stain.
to remind me,
that I hurt for something.
Jo Barber Apr 2
Sometimes you hurt like a needle,
sometimes like a knife.
Sometimes I can't bear to look at you.
Sometimes you're all I can look at.
Marco Benitez Mar 31
When my feelings are twisted and my mind distorted,
Hand me a knife
Hand me a knife to slice away my sorrow
To distract my depression with blood
To remember the number of times I felt miserable
One scar at a time
Hand me a knife to tear open my skin
So some of the sewage of my body can leave through the opening that I make
Don’t worry
It does not hurt when I make the cut
It only burns a little afterwards
I promise the knife will not get close to my throat
or at least I don’t think so
You don’t have to see the cuts
They can hide under my sleeves
Just hand me a knife!
You will never suspect I used it
It will not be the first time
It will not be the last time
That I paint a silver knife with my own blood
I promise it will be fast
I will cut,
Wash the knife,
And greet you the next morning
As if nothing ever happened
Galib Mar 30
You came to my life, brought me to life,
You pulled out the knife, poked into my heart,
You are a beautiful sunny day following  dreadful night,
Will travel with time, to avoid nightmare of mine.
Amanda Mar 30
I am disgusted with myself
Under a disappointed stare
The agony clear and palpable
As it courses through open air

I cannot change the deeds I've done
Unspeak the weighty lies I told
I work towards a better future
To prove trust is something I can uphold

The idea of you wondering
If I am not who I am
Keeps me enveloped in fear
Words barricaded in a tricky dam

Together we can tear down obstacles
Defeat shadows and doubt
One by one I will fix the problems
We have been fighting about

My ghouls are running wild, exposed
By the knife plunged into your heart
I long to have you in close proximity
Yet keep tearing your love apart
You said that what I did was disgusting, I know you don't mean me specifically, but it still hurt at the time.
Umi Mar 16
Urges through the night, a blade dancing with its mistress, discarding what has summoned up in her way alike a bloody crazed devotion,
Scarlet tears make their way down her cheek, washing the sand off as the pillars around begin to collapse alike cards one by one at the time,
Phantoms rage as a pure flower appears to commence blooming,
The warped moon embraces the shadows of such fools as it rises,
Actions with not much meaning seek their rampage as the battle field becomes frail and soulless through this sleepless night of lunacy,
When the flood of realisation arrives she will be swept away unlike the wise who make a more solid, stadfast decision. How trecious,
Does she want to take a dance with this cruel world she rampages on, are her ideals fitting for this battle she is about to win for now,
Drenched in blood and impurities of her work, her mind remains pure, innocent, not even sweating one thought to the consequences,
Mercy nor compassion are unlikely to be granted in this darkening realm, not to her dancing knife or her lunatic bloody devotion,
Time is moving, as she sacrafices her soul for her actions,
Taking another dance in this distorted dark

~ Umi
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