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are
my tears
mock me
again
grindersedges
for your skin
wool
man
pipping stars
watch them hatch
stone glaciers
keep calming
me back
?
























...
..
.
sewn
she dreamed
through me
my love
tumbles


here
am
i

here
i
am
catch me

22

ways to die

i love you more than that
i need you more than that
to tell me
of
my
needs

whisper
to
me

kiss my neck
intangle me
within
you

here
i
am
again
again
here
we
are
always
more than
we seemed
or
so
she dreamed
?













...
..
.
love sews
sew
sew
sewn
sewing
stiches
stitched
to my sleeves
tears soaking
simplicity
magnify
times
me
in
i
find myself
me'ing me
perfectly
time hurdles another fence
passport in hand bus stop timed
frequently flown boot soles
composite toed mistletoe
kiss me rosey cheeks
love me dearly
love me
most
love
me
ghosts
learning to sew
?













...
..
.
galio Mar 2016
white sleeves slipping over her wrists
just a little too big
just a little too
empty.
Christina Cox Jan 2016
I roll up my sleeves
just like you have asked.
Around those who might
understand.

I show the baby scars,
a checkerboard of tan and pink.
A forearm wearing a heart.

Please watch my face for emotions
as I watch yours react.

I'll see you accept or reject
the girl wearing this broken body.
Christina Cox Dec 2015
If you look at what I wear,
would you think I have a problem?

Flowing skirts over colorful tights,
fashion shoes and non-matching belts,
leather jackets with layered shirts,
purple hair and bright blue eyes.
My appearance screams confidence, character, joy.

What if you see instead of look?

Not a day goes by without long sleeves.
No shorts or skirts above the knee unless they cover tights.
Never crop tops or low cut pants.

I hide myself in confident clothes
so you can’t see the opposite truth.
Rafael Melendez Oct 2015
A lifelong amount of moments to a matter of seconds in my head, a few drops of liquid in my brain that could have erased all of the miserable feelings in my uneasy gut.

You used to always roll my sleeves up for me, but now my sweaters are in the closet and they're catching dust.
And now winter is coming, but I would have worn them for you in the summer.
Nicole Dawn Jun 2015
Do you even bother
To look for the signs?

I play my music louder
These days
I don't listen
For joy
But to drown
The world out

I'm never without long sleeves
These days
I don't wear them
For warmth
But to protect
My secrets

I feel ill more often
These days
I don't feel sick
Because of a physical illness
But a
Mental one

There are thousands of signs
That I am dying
Yet you never notice
Do you even bother to look?
Roxxanna Kurtz Mar 2015
I'm sick of hanging
sweaters on clothes lines
where the sleeves,
stained blood red,
are visible to the rest of the world.
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