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I think I am scared to love.
I’m not used to being the vulnerable one;
The one that stays;
the one that is brave.

I do not know how to love.
I don’t know how to let my walls down
To let my fears out
To put my heart on my sleeve.

I want to love.
God, I want to love,
but my hair smells of war
and running and running.
My hair smells of war and running and running and I'm scared to trip and fall into this crazy thing we call love.
Maria Etre Nov 2019
Dear fellow poets,

Try to vocalize
what you immortalize on paper.

your courage.
It’s to fall,
With your heart on your sleeve
It’s to fly,
Your hair ruffled by the breeze
It’s to call,
And have faith and believe
It’s to trust,
That they will let you breathe.
It’s to choke,
As the tears stream down your cheeks
It’s to tear,
As your heart is slowly squeezed
It’s to leave,
Although you’re ripping at the seams
It’s to die,
Although your lungs still seem to breathe.
It’s to cry,
Even though you assure that you’re fine
It’s to jump,
Even if you’re still healing
It’s to smile,
While you’re trying to forget
It’s to fall,
With your heart on your sleeve.
It's funny. I don't believe that I've ever been in love, yet I can describe it somewhat accurately...
B D Caissie Aug 2019
I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve, so it’s ok if you tug on it...
m h John Aug 2019
i put my heart on my sleeve
then you came along
and set my sleeve on fire
Star BG May 2019
After I put on my street cloths,
I put on a silken veil of love.
It blows out in wind of my breath.
Touching all who walk.
Brushing upon Mother Earths mountains.
and sea of sky

I wear it proudly
The mesh invisible
penetrates into my heart
where I wear love on
sleeve and inside hugs.
Inspired by Ashley Kocher
Fingertips frozen,
Arms up my sleeve.
But I have to write this idea down.
My hands are already filled with ink.
Everything has to be gold these days.
Golden chain, Golden eyes, Golden soul, Golden ring.
Still want to be the one to speak her name as mine though.
It's cold outside,
But I'm colder.
You poor thing.
I'm writing a small poem every day about how I feel or the world around me. This is #19
Anne Webb Dec 2018
You stretched your arm forward
and held out your hand
I tore out my heart
gave it over and waited
for you to tear it apart

._   ._   ._  

But you took it
and placed it on your sleeve
although I hoped that maybe
you could hide it in a safe
and take care of it for me

._   ._   ._  

And so there it stays
my exposed, beating heart
you wear it on your sleeve
vulnerable  ._   ._   ._  
and you take it with you whenever you leave.
I fell in love... And it made me feel vulnerable. More vulnerable than I ever felt in my entire life. It makes me scared. But in a good way, I think. Or at least I hope.
Mida Burtons Nov 2018
all feeling in my body gone
the tears follow
my hand instinctively reaches for the blade
i pull down my sleeve
reminders of yesterday remain
no vacancies
i try again
i lift myself out of my clothes
my battered body reflected in the mirror
my thighs still hold the colour of my skin
and not the rapidly familiar crimson dye
the blade makes its way down
the cold metal devours its target
1, 2, 3
66, 67, 68
83, 84, 85
and on it goes
all done
mjad Nov 2018
the fire left sparks on my sleeve
You stood ten feet across from me
on the other side of the flames
they reflected in your eyes
the ocean blue turned arsony
and I could see all our memories
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