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Show me your five closest friends and I will tell you, your past,
They hang like stiches to cover what life has taken from you,

You were born with eyes rotating 180’
Then the death started to walk on your back demons hunting you,
So you evolved upright, 90’ no look back.

We make friends based on what we need or what we have lost.

Show me your friends, show me your scars,
Now look at my friends, can’t you see I’m in pain.
Amber Aug 13
us
there is no us anymore
i wish i could go back to the times
that us existed
but without u
us won’t exist
and without me
us will be broken
trust
heart
all smashed to million pieces
broken
picking up those pieces
stitching them back
to the right places
hoping that they won’t leave a scar
hoping that it would look the same
hoping that u would come back
Gale L Mccoy Jul 4
why do i have to stand
when i could fly
my feet are glued
to a ground set on fire
ive waited long enough
for my wings to grow
no matter how my hand shakes
i will grab each feather
try try try again to stitch together
day 4 for 31 days of poetry
Hannah Jo Apr 7
Not even all the love in the world could stitch you back together the very same way again. I know that now. I know.
And maybe someday he will see it that way too.
Maybe someday he will see that we are all fighting our own personal battles, and sometimes those battles don't fit well together.
Sometimes our battles put together just create a whole new war.
Sometimes those wars aren't worth putting your boots back on for.
And sometimes it's the hardest thing, taking off your armor and giving up when you've been so used to constant day to day war cries and shrapnel.
To let chaos consume you, to wait for it to pass over, is paralyzing.
But all I know is you are tired, and you are too beautiful and wild to be kept down for long.
All I know is I want you to find your calm after the storm.
halsey Mar 30
we came upon a stitch of sky
holding the loneliest stars
Poetic T Feb 22
We are all stitches in the cloth
                           of the universe,
each a moment holding
        the past & future together.

For without these
                   overlapping occasions
we would become frayed.
Undone not learning from one another.

But we are but one stitch among the
                    many colours that are
woven as far as the eye can see.
            patches that collected together.
they read
in
silence
mandalins
violence
loved
love
me
nots


oh how silent are we
breath left to fog window screens
collapsing what we know
as
sweet
memories

good over bad
who said that
what love
has
your
silence
cherished

meet me here
below your window
we know
you can
catch
an
kiss

see mine blowing
to
you

we have orchestrated an symphony
on
each
and every kiss

listen for our lips
joining
in
cosmic bliss


close your eyes
count to three
pucker up
now
your
kissing free


he closed his eyes
his lips felt
her
heart
he heard art
?

































...
..
.
stitches
...
..
.
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
?













...
..
.
Nylee Dec 2017
Silver flame burn in her eyes
as she tries to hold back her tears
Dark shining fires  
shooting like spears
beating beats of fear.

Rain drops falling the greyness
in the field, by the river
shine of the diamond
devoid of the glitter
slowly the sparks die.

Rings don't bond them back
unstretched the spring
broken ties, empty hearts
unopened carts
but a game of cards.

Moved back in position
dreading the new season
searching the reasons
blaming themselves
in those eerie silences.

Fighting themselves to break
but trying in hearts another stitch
the tear too large
a very hard wreck
unlikely to be any merger.
Rebecca H Sep 2017
When we got together I quickly learned that
he liked to fix things;
whether it be cars, toys or even people.

But I didn't need fixing.

So he peeled me apart,
petal after petal,
until I was no more than broken glass on the floor.

Then, he started stitching.

Where he had ripped me at the seams he
sewed my wounds together and glued the pieces back
until he was satisfied.

He was done knitting.

What I forgot to mention was
that he'd always grow bored a short while later
so he eventually left me for somebody else

*"who needed fixing."
- he called himself a mechanic but in reality he only destroyed -
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