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Tanya Apr 2019
the cold crawling of a sharp knife,
tasting your blood bitter than truth,
yet
sweeter than sin,
whispering gently
amen.

ripping apart your look for tomorrow
filling your eyes with glasses of sorrow
how does it feel,
ending it all at once,
and yet painting your beliefs
with the color of the blood you bleed?

but don’t worry one stab cannot be that bad,
please, don’t be mad,
pull yourself together and
the warmth inside your soul
may survive;

it could.

but the knife fell again,
not intentional,
a small mistake,
carving a name
on the back of your
heart,

did anyone survive?
you stabbed my love for you.
kerri Apr 2019
Be my Villanelle,
The assassin to my heart.
Stab me,
Once,
Twice,
Five ******* times.
Deeper,
Harder,
Show me your love.
I was watching Killing Eve and all I can think of is how hot Villainelle is.
Poolza Feb 2019
I wish
More than anything
To get attacked
So I get an excuse
To take a life

So I can see the vivid red pouring out of the cold, lifeless body that would lie in front of me
#notactuallytrue
soul Nov 2018
Get up in the night,
In my mind to find the light
Holding the white candle,
But Darkness was getting hard to fight
Lost in the narrow woods,
No space between the tree to peek outside,
There goes the stars shinning  bright
moon being the cheater snatching all the lime light,
In my heart I feel a tide
Of emotions that wants me to hide,
There lies my injured heart
With a arrow along the middle side,
Something blinds my vision
Like it doesn't want me to see ,
The picture of the site that had fleed
All my sense comes to stand still,
When their happy memories comes to live
With champaign in one,
And the knife in other
That they used to stab me,
Multiple times without a hustle
For moving on you have to let go, then how come I am not able to let it go?
Xaela San Nov 2018
No doubt, I'm bleeding

and you dare ask me

after you stab me

on the back?
Beshhh
Brandon Conway Aug 2018
I am not Julius
Don't stab me with fallacy
And then walk away
Kirill Jun 2018
Vicious lies, like knives, They cut.
Stabbed in the back, the eyes and gut.
Couplet
Danielle Jun 2018
This broken teacup of mine,
Lays on the floor.
Pieces scattered and crushed into the carpet.
A mosaic of pain.
This broken teacup of mine,
Stabs and slices,
As I pick up the shattered porcelain.
White stained red.
This broken teacup of mine,
I can’t put back together.
I remember it fondly from when it was whole
And admire its new beauty
As I wait, patiently.
Not the other poem I was going to post tonight, but inspiration comes at odd moments and I have no problems rolling with it.

Sometimes you can't put people back together, sometimes you have to wait for them to fix themselves. But that doesn't ever mean that you can't appreciate them as they were and who they are now becoming.
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