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Actually scratch that.

I miss the things we planned to do,
The drives
The lunch dates
The lazy mornings watching movies
And how our just woken up tongues would taste.

I miss the memories I hoped to have,
But I guess you didn't think the same

I'm not quite sure what I said,
Why it all turned out this way
Or what caused you to leave me sitting alone in that park.

Maybe it was the alcohol,
Or maybe you were afraid of what might happen.

Either way.
When I looked down at you
That one lazy morning,
Right before you gave up on me,
I wanted you
With all my heart

But in your eyes I saw how apprehensive you were.
I saw the barbed wire around your tongue
And the metal fences behind your eyes I'm not strong enough to climb.

It doesn't help you kept building it higher.

So to make it simple.
When people ask me what's wrong
Because they see the bags you left under my eyes
Or the flesh you took that used to pad my ribs.
I remember how I came home smelling like you
Because we hadn't stopped touching each other for hours.

And I'll tell them,
I had a few late nights
Waiting for a friend to get home
So I knew they were safe.

If we are being honest
I know you will come home,
But I am not your home.
I tried,
I would have done close to anything to be

But I was too weak to climb your fenses
And I cut myself too many times on your sharp edges

If you hadn't left I would have let myself be cut to ribbons.
BMG Jun 2018
My scars tell a story
Of the person that existed before you
Before the person I am now
They explain how I become
Who I am today
Reminders of my past

I may not talk about them
That doesn’t mean
I am ashamed of them
I may not explain why
That doesn’t mean
I don’t remember each time

I use to be someone
That needed each scar
I use to be someone
That couldn’t fight back
Fragile little girls grow up
Forces to be reckoned with

Just because I carry my past
For you to see
On my arms
On my thighs
Doesn’t mean
you have a right to my story
Does not mean you know
Where I have been

You see a faded delicate red line
You can’t see it still alive within me
I use to rely on those sharp edges
Rely on the pain it brought me
I still rely on sharp edges
Now they exist within me
Danielle May 2018
She worked upon their minds,
Using sharply hooked fears
And soft feathered wings,
To whisper insidious desires
Into their hearts and minds.
With the bait laid, rotting in the sun,
They came in droves to feast.
The butcher licked her crimson lips and smiled.
Not sure how many people have read the Second Earth Re-Told, by Patrick Woodroffe, but that book had a huge impact on me. This poem is a nod to his work.
i bleed poetry Apr 2018
You took my heart
and threw it on the floor
You stepped on it, you broke it
and used the sharp edges
to cut my flesh in the shape of your name
Still it wasn't enough,
You poured salt on my open wounds,
spit on my scars and left
I've given someone many chances even if they never asked for it~ chances for them to prove that they are worthy but they just kept proving me otherwise.
Nyx Apr 2018

Sharp and Cold
Those glass like eyes
Once you fall under their gaze
There is no way to resist.
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