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Meysa May 2020
you keep rubbing your thumb over the same old wound
and you wonder why it stings?
silly girl
Michael R Burch Apr 2020
honeybee
by michael r. burch

love was a little treble thing—
prone to sing
and (sometimes) to sting

Keywords/Tags: love, bee, honeybee, treble, song, sing, singer, sting, stinger, barb, poison
N Aug 2019
Love
is the glowing flame,
and you melt
as it approaches

Listen,
be careful
with that flame,
or it’ll burn you
when that love
starts to sting

They’ll decide to leave you,
and you’ll remain with nothing,
but the fading ashes of that love  

You’ll lose the passing-by warmth
that once visited your frigid heart

So light up a cigarette,
and put out the ongoing fire
inside your chest with smoke
Emily Mitchell Feb 2020
Winter Winds stinging
bringing hot tears to my eyes
pleasantly painful?
Written November 9th 2018 inspired by the cold wind blowing through the wind tunnel alley that I used to have to walk through to get to work. The building that formed one side of the alley isn't there anymore oh well...
Sally A Bayan Feb 2020
Don’t be mad...hate not,
when works are badly thought of;
you have your own mind,

diff’rent...from the rest;
you think, you create diff’rent
as they......do diff’rent...

your style manifests
your values and opinions,
your words mirror them...

your free verses and
haikus...earn their own sparkle,
draw their own audience...

tinged with black humor,
or mild sarcasm...it's YOU!
your style defines.....YOU!

we’re a world of poets
diff’rent folks with diff’rent strokes
we sting......stoke..........we touch...


Sally

Copyright Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Decmber 12, 2019
K Balachandran Jan 2020
A honeybee stings hard.
It draws back its sword and speeds;
Did it harm itself?
-elise- Dec 2019
sometimes, when I kiss you
I swear I can hear the    a  i  r
humming
~~~~between us~~~~

it's the sound of hornets when their
q u e e n
orders them to
K  i  l  l .
solfang Nov 2019
your love stung,
the last time
i tried to
hold it tight

perhaps it was
poisoned by past lovers
and they've forgotten
to hand you the antidote

or maybe,
you've wrapped it
with sharp thorns;
like a wild garden
unexplored and afraid
to be trampled on

whatever it is,
it's spreading to me;
but i could tell
it's from the time
you broke my heart
[so, this is heartache?]

Used to have crushes on people who were afraid of loving again, and afraid to love in case they experience hur.
LC Nov 2019
on some days
I'm a piece of sandpaper -
rubbed and rubbed
until I'm raw and stinging,
until there's almost nothing left.

but there's a little corner
that doesn't sting,
that renews my hope,
that heals every part of me
until I'm whole again.
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