Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
annh Sep 20
Lend me your biography; your innermost-ness,
Your secret shame; your hidden struggles,
And I shall gift you words.

A language woven with silk,
Borrowed from my own unravellings,
Frayed edges, now mended.

Let me help you thread the needle,
So that you may quilt your scattered pieces together,
And, in time, find yourself whole again.

‘Words are singularly the most powerful force available to humanity. We can choose to use this force constructively with words of encouragement, or destructively using words of despair. Words have energy and power with the ability to help, to heal, to hinder, to hurt, to harm, to humiliate and to humble.’
- Yehuda Berg
m h John Aug 8
you picked up the needle gun
and sharpened it with your words,
jabbing it into my skin
changing my color
from yellow to blue
you shaded me dark
and trademarked my skin
with the scar tissue
of everything you had put me through
you then put a stamp on me
that could not be washed off
and wrapped me up in cellophane

shipping me off
to a lonely place

that only exists within my mind
where the sky is grey
and the grass is dead
and the only thing keeping me alive
is the silhouette of hope
shadowing between your webs
Maddie Rea May 6
Frustration eating my insides never again will I feel you

Always accompanying me through everything always by my side

Thick and thin but now I’m to think to even let you in and if by chance you allow me that bliss

You **** back, my eyes close anticipating your hit but it never comes

Allowing myself to be consumed by the anger of the blow, lingering, never able to feel your pain

My adrenaline swells bring out the rage in me

Can’t confide in anyone because they could never understand and when they can fathom it goes ignored

My pain, anger, and rage makes them mad at me and only because I can’t obtain your beautiful pain; **** your excuses it’s not like you can just leave, it would only tear me apart

Whatever the debt I will pay even if it leaves everyone in pain
Emily Apr 8
Sandy was better than candy.
She helped me to smile without any guile.

Quick with a stick, for me, she did *****.
I hope her yesterday was quite good anyway.

With my blood she absconded, and to questions responded,
Quick to smile and go the extra mile.

May her draws always succeed, her patients willingly bleed.
Into the vial without a great trial.
Renn Powell Mar 18
a needle
a spool of thread
you offered to sew me back together
you helped take the stitches out
of the wounds you made
nja Feb 12
She wanted to remain pure,
unstained,
unpoked.
She had toyed with getting a tattoo
but realised it wasn’t
individual anymore.
But she was in need of validation.
Was she past her peak? She’s still cool right?

The needle stuck into her skin like the scent of an old lover. It left a fizzy sensation behind.
The ink spread.
She kept poking,
stabbing,
stick n poking.

What emerged was a star.

Startled,
strained by Tar,
scarred,
her sparkle faded.
My experience of doing a stick n poke tattoo of a star on myself. My thoughts on my first tattoo. I called my star tattoo Tar.
annh Jan 22
Time threads her necklace patiently,
Choosing carefully the colour and shape of our experiences,
Here, a tumbled quartz - luminous and rosy,
There, shards of darkest onyx - tragic and uncompromising,
Every now and again, a perfect sphere of sacred turquoise to mark a special occasion.

Finally, satisfied with her handiwork Time ties off the strand,
And weaves the precious metal of our dreams - unrealised - into an intricate clasp,
As she places the memento around her bejewelled neck she sighs to herself and whispers:
‘Such promise, such pain, such beauty, such loss; I will treasure you always.’
Then reaching for her spool of silver thread, she begins again to thread her golden needle.
Pyrrha Jan 21
Everytime I try to find myself
I get lost inside of you
I've become a needle in a haystack
Except I'm the only one who knows I'm missing
Next page