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Anastasia Jun 2019
roses in my ribs
lilies on my lips
pearls in my pockets
tulips on my tongue
honeysuckles on my heart
tiger flowers on my thighs
marigolds on my mirror
you make me bloom ♥
stopdoopy Jul 2021
And it's funny,
As I stand here
Bent over this sink
With tears streaking
All down my face
And my ribs are so sore
As I ***** some more,
That I think of you
You're disgusting, my dear.
M yesdniL adnamA Apr 2019
(written 12.3.18)

teeth bite sour tonic; smells like an ick in the brain
but every time the remedy’s killing, filling, thrilling
the same way the void does
i lick up my pain
we aren’t on the same plane
topography’s telling me you’re on a high in the sky
Icarus but you’re so afraid of the heights, the high
so you remain where you’ve lain
and if we do meet again you’ll understand
my roar, the demon rears its ugly head
snarling monsters need to be fed—
isn't that what you said?
pick up my tears, your fears, peer at it
look through the ribs, between the trees where it clears
porcupine needles poke through the glass
fast, fasting vastly
the lion, the witch, and the rat
. . . the plague . . .
shove those four words in my ears
. . . feed . . .
tell me i have an addiction, i know you think i need a prescription
but addicts have cunning actions
counting in fractions
my calculator consciousness, non-malfunctionable
demons fixed my wiring
salivating at the foul mouth,
i smell it but do not dare taste the plate
. . . neurons are firing . . .
you don’t know about all the horrors i face, caged, trapped in a place
where eyes are yellow and dim, bags purple and grim
snakes out on the limb
i’ll pluck the feathers out of your wings
you won’t need to climb to fall because the sun won’t do damage,
not when i know these things
you are weak, incapable, fell of a cliff
the wind, yes i know it is stiff
but you’ll find its so hard to resist
i’ll disassemble it all, but will it be enough for the monsters?
no, they want more than that
tell me i need to stop
tongue tastes like paper, touching the list
its dictating, telling the good from the bad
but sour lips will never be kissed
all alone in the garden, your body begins to turn rotten
i get to spend more time with the monsters that raised me
they praised me, they gave me
a savior
taught me to rid myself of you
crazed episodes become more intense
. . . repentance . . .
but i am alone in the garden now
demon on my shoulder, it pardons me as i fall to my knees
peer through the ribs, the void
and i say that i am happier
in the garden
among the demons and the dark fruit trees.
every Love poem I write feels like a suicide note, as I let a part of me find another home.
love articulates a passionate soul caged in my ribs
wrestling with every beat to break free.

Some say if U love a flower don't pick it coz it will die, so I planted mine next to yours.
for the roots to meet beneath the Earth's surface.
b Oct 2018
i woke up to write a poem
i woke up to write a poem

maybe

i woke up to tell you
that the lips of love are soft.
that the touch of hell burns cold.

but youve heard that before and so have i.

so if

i woke up to write a poem
i woke up to write a poem

why even bother if the
words im looking for
havent made themselves
known to me.

they should be at my ribs,
knocking on the glass.
but instead they
dance like a child.
and hide like a fugitive
wisteria Jun 2018
a bewildered face, a blurry
cloud in the sky, i’m
turning in circles and every second i see something else collapse.
like the lungs
behind our ribs, we can’t breathe
when the air is so thick.
our bodies shrinking, lungs
suffocating, i don’t think you have room for
me,, anymore.
it was too overwhelming i think
Jack May 2018
Please
i need your help
i need you
to break my ribs
no i'm serious
please
it's my heart you see
it's suffocating in there
under the weight of skin
and blood
and the ribs
please
you have to break it out
i've tried
i really have
but the more i pull the tighter they squeeze
like one of those finger traps
please
they do it for open heart surgery
this is not dissimilar
please you have to do it now
they can hear me writing this
and they threaten to squeeze tighter
and make my arms forzen
my fingers in rigor mortis
just break
my *******
ribs
LCP May 2018
I've always wanted someone to take my breath away
Bu after struggling to obtain oxygen these past few days
I have realized how precious it is
Saving it and storing it up for the right words
But my oxygen could never be wasted on you
My ribs may creak and crumble
And my lungs stretch paper thin
But oxygen is a precious thing
And you are worth every single breath
That burns me from the inside out
I have been very sick with a respiratory illness and lately it has caused my ribs to ache and it's a pain that I've never experienced before. Doing simple things hurts and requires so much effort. Important people in my life have been very helpful and they make me want to laugh even though it hurts but they make the pain worth it.
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