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I will mend my broken soul
Using heartstrings
And gentle hands
To fasten it together
I will patch myself up
Sewing lovely words
Over lonely thoughts,
I will fill in the cracks
Where the light leaks out
And the cold seeps in
This house will be
A home someday
I will mend my broken soul

Mark Wanless Aug 2021
how many men die
before the final battle
more than are needed
inspired by something somewhen
Kailin Biver Jul 2021
I need a friend
Who will help me mend
A friend that will remember me
But I’m not looking for a nominee.

A nominee isn’t some I can trust.

I need a friend to cry with
Over all the stupid things
A friend who doesn’t mind
Staying with me all these years.

I need a friend
Who can see past my vacant eyes
As well as these lies…

But it hurts.

Because anytime I get that friend,
I’m left here alone trying to apprehend
What I did wrong.

Did I show them too much?

I try getting these answers.
I try putting the pieces together.
I try to figure out what I did wrong.
I try my best to reach out.

And as this happens,
Piece by piece
I become an empty void.

Is having that someone really worth it
When this type of thing happens every **** time?
Isn’t it better to just leave it
Rather than trying to prepare myself for what’s bound to happen next time?
My Dear Poet May 2021
There is a ribbon
bound around
my heart
with a bow, so
you know
holding every part

thought it was
a gift I brought
to unwrap
and you did
without thought
and that was

and that there
was where
it all fell apart
at the seam with ease
at every cut
and part

so please
if you’re so keen
to untie a heart
warn of your touch
and how
clutching ribbon
could hurt
so much

If only
I’d been told
from the start
I’d have used
my mind
to take hold
my heart
usagi Feb 2021
How silly the notion that he could ever hold and mend the cracks that chipped so deeply they created craters and voids as deep as black holes.

how silly indeed.
hold me, or don't . What difference would it make?
J Dec 2020
If I should be melted down
You shall forever be what cools me.
If I should ever be completely mutilated
you are what mends me.
throughout the amount of time that I've pieced myself together
tore myself down,
then back up
around, through the loops, under the bridges,
I've grown tired of trying to figure out where I go.
I want you to tell me.
I, flimsy wax, will mold as you wish,
I, roadkill, will be the source of necromancy,
if you shall wish it.
I'm tired of faking as if I know what I am,
that I want to be as you want me to be.
So if I were to be bloodied and bruised
I'll allow you to be the reason, or if you'd rather
you can be justice.
If I should be sad,
you will always be my smile.
because I constantly make this
choice, apparently,
of loving you.
I don't know.
mycah Dec 2020
I layed myself out bare,
bracing for the sting of another open wound.
You only came with tools to mend,
a needle and thread.
With gentle hands,
you stiched together every hole in my heart with love.
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