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Ya Boi Sep 15
As though her skin was stained porcelain white
She slipped back down from the sky cracked and marred
Though every second of my gaze was wasted
As in her final instance; before departure
She was stained porcelain white
Abby M Jun 3
Her red lips like the roses of a cracking stained glass window
When she leaned in to whisper her secret
The words falling from them like demons through a gate
Into a crumbling church

Into my ear

I had sat in those pews
With zealous eyes and thoughts upon those lip-red roses
But one by one her demons came like whispers
And cracked the red stained window like a breaking heart
ever standing
body lithe, strong
trained to strike

too dashing for peeling paint
old verandas
slow-paced hamlet

waiting in country town
place to whizz past
road to tourist hub

how does his tale read
did he pay
for assault

struck the frame
holder of *****
spawning breath

cold fury
for scenes of his mother
thrown down

stain his every stance
grabbing mail swiftly
ahead of arrival

panther muscles
no more the crouching lad
shuddering

her screams
bounce off walls
as mother's body slumps

broken bottle scars
left to clean up the mess
as he leaves for school
forage into
fictional possibility -
penned
with deep respect
for David
of village
post office
Jenn Dec 2018
why do I keep looking for unhappiness
why do I look for things to upset me
am I broken
how do I fix me
how do I mend the pieces that you made
without cutting my hands open
stopdoopy Jan 29
Coming from the mouth of hate
A deep green ink tumbling out
With those **** red petals
Having been stained by the blood
Spilling into vile words of suffering
Twisting this way and that
As if alive- slithering into place

I would plunge the dagger
Deeper still into your chest
Turning it and slicing on either side
Until I could reach in and pluck
That beating ***** from the cavity
And hold it in my hand, so tenderly
Just as I always have been with you
And then crush it in between palms
Applying more pressure until
The pain is unbearable and then
Maybe you will have felt
What you've put me through
The line about the petals is reminiscent of my poem "Unrequited Love" and both pieces are about the same person.

This one came from the feelings of when you *****- the rising bile, acrid smell, acidic bite, the retching, and the tears.
Xallan Oct 2018
My sister paints
a heart that is not hers
it is not anyone's
and because she is not a surgeon
and that is not her heart
it stains the canvas: pink
zb Sep 2018
i wish i could see myself through your eyes
and convince myself i'm beautiful
Alyssa Underwood Nov 2015
come if you're thirsty, come if you're stained
come if you're weary, come if you're pained
come to the water, the bread and the blood
come to Christ's soul-saving covenant flood
there's no one too *****, no one too poor
no one too broken whose faith He'll ignore
come if you hear Jesus calling your name
come to be free of all guilt and all shame
come if you're willing to cast out old strife
come lay your burden and take up new life
~~~

"'Come to Me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.'"  
~ Matthew 11:28-30

"Jesus answered, 'Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.'"  
~ John 4:13-14

"Then Jesus declared, 'I am the bread of life. He who comes to Me will never go hungry, and he who believes in Me will never be thirsty.'"  
~ John 6:35

"On the last and greatest day of the Feast, Jesus stood and said in a loud voice, 'If anyone is thirsty, let him come to Me and drink. Whoever believes in Me, as the Scripture has said, streams of living water will flow from within him.'"
~ John 7:37-38

"'I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in Me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from Me you can do nothing.'"  
~ John 15:5

~~~
Elizabethanne Sep 2018
I am seventeen years old
And I’m sitting at the bottom of my tub.
I’ve cracked my wrists open like the windows in my room-
I’m trying to let some light in
I need to breathe fresh air into my body.
this is the only way I know how
I have closed the curtains,
boarded up the doors.
you had a key
And you trekked in mud and pine needles from the giant spruce tree outside.
I pick them out of my hair
And line them up on the side of the stained porcelain tub.
I am thinking of putting out a foreclosure sign in my front yard-
Abandoning these halls and leaving everything but this stained tub behind.
Seventeen is hard and rough,
It had calloused hands and it took things from me I wasn’t ready to give.

- I am twenty now
- And I’ve redone my home and tore out the stained tub
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