Bruises may hurt.
Scrapes may burn.
Burns may sting.
The thing that hurts the most,
burns the most,
and may sting the most-
This is true on so many levels. Who else can relate?
my ribcage scrapes against my heart
but isn’t supposed to
I liked to spring forth from the bushes
Trying to catch my 2009 year old friend mid March
The burning heat as firewood’s crackling,
Glowing heart erupted from my knees as my own
Feet had fought each other to which was going to be placed
Seeing red white and blue the Final chalk
Me up as scraped with fireworks of every decibel explodes in
Its back backed by the drum beat of a song we cant ever remember
But will never forget
Of the “Its alright there’s no need to cry” times,
“Your purple penguin plate needed a new friend anyway”
As tears are mopped up by the already wet nose,
Of our best friend, I remiss, then go to grab
My old new cup
For the young me of memories
This is a brand new world.
Day 17/31 of my "Six Words A Day" Challenge for the whole month of July, the whole collection can be found on my page on the first of August.
to slip away
but you cant
a few scrapes
if youre caught
between a rock
and a hard place,
end up broken
you build your
cannot be made
of something like
i tried to tell my sadness to my friend once
they laughed it off
as if it were merely a scrape
that could be healed
with a bright colored Band-Aid and time
i thought about telling how it really was
tell how the scrape traveled into my bloodstream
into my liver
and slowly my sadness began to pump through me
until it became me
like a bear burring in its den for the winter
only my winter shows no signs of passing
— The End —