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aspen wilde Jun 2020
i run you through my fingers,
waiting for my response.
your surface smooth as water,
your blade sharp as ice.
your blue tint reflecting my sadness,
your cracks revealing my anger.
still waiting for my answer,
i place you down admiring your beauty.
little shard of glass,
nothing else can cut so smoothly.
i think about it,
can i be that strong
as to not rip you through my skin,
and watch the validation seep out?
watch your red army attack my clothes,
staining the white the deepest crimson?
i think i'm done deciding,
what will i do- only time will tell.
you once were so innocent
though now stained with red.
i took your life from you
like you itch to take mine from me.

- credit to Sylvia Plath for the red army reference
-- see 'Cut'
Michael R Burch Mar 2020
Geode, a Resemblance
by Michael R. Burch

Take this geode with its rough exterior—
crude-skinned, brilliant-hearted ...

a diode of amethyst—wild, electric;
its sequined cavity—parted, revealing.

Find in its fire all brittle passion,
each jagged shard relentlessly aching.

Each spire inward—a fission startled;
in its shattered entrails—fractured light,

the heart ice breaking.

Published by Poet Lore, Poetry Magazine and the Net Poetry and Art Competition. Keywords/Tags: Geode, amethyst, quartz, rock, stone, sequin, sequined, jagged, shard, brilliant, fire, passion, light, fission, ice
Betty Jan 2020
Ice on fire

Burning desire

Of melted heart

And flame

No shame or blame

We  both knew the game

Before we started

And now we have parted

So it didn't last

But we had a blast

All the same
Cameron Aug 2019
Shattered like a china plate
Broken like a window pane
My heart's a million shards
Shards that won't be one again
Abby M Jan 2019
You were falling
So I stretched out my porcelain hand
But you were scared
And you gripped it too hard
Now it’s broken
And so are you
Vexren4000 Aug 2018
A shard in my heart,
Shaped by things lost to time,
A sharp, jutting shard,
Made of frozen angel tears,
And came from shattered panes of dreams,
A shard,
Placed there long ago,
Still stabs the heart and soul,
Whenever my heart beats for anything.

Jacob Traver Sep 2015
The mirror is shattered.
So without any reflection on the misuse of this image,
The shards will be incarnadine.

The bleeding will ne'er end.
It drips drops of thick sick thoughts,
Smothering the scattered shards.

A sight bred for horror.
Speckled endlessly, sorting sorrows
Into uniquely spattered shards.

The fulmination of self-imitation.
No longer are little words taken lightly.
You are now obscure shards.

I, too, once saw clearly.
Mirrors are often (overly) used as metaphors, similes, and symbols- what was set out to satirize and comment on the over use of the mirror imagery became one of my most cherished poems. Even though this was written awhile ago, I haven't published it until now and can only hope that the meaning comes across. But for you - poets of the mirror image - enjoy.
WistfulHope Mar 2015
I can't even say          
                                                   ­                        you hurt me
with confidence.          

It feel like this so         
often I've begun          
to wonder if          
                                                    ­                         I do this to myself...

I want to cuss you         
out of my thoughts but         
                                                                ­            I only sink further
into them.          

So I'll pretend it's fine --           
I'm fine -- while          
                                                 ­                             I'm crying my eyes out,
because I don't even think         
                                                                ­             I can blame you.
Crying. Hating.
**** me.
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