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JT Nelson Jun 6
Scars of stitches
Map the years
And my moments of bad
Decisions

A fall here
An accident there
Times when the hurry just
Wasn’t worth it

Two or three stitches
Never more than five
The cuts were
always small

But I hated blood
And needles more
So they were never
Fun.
I am not a poised person
| Nor am I a delight to hear
| But I am a truth warrior
|a knight for deeper meaning
|and a contender for reality
|So I speak my restless mind
|on the matters that matter most
\ and for this I am sutured.
| my mouth sewn shut
| by the red and yellow tape;
|political correctness
/ diminishing the truth
|until nothing is ever said
|And I weep
. Silent tears
Let the truth be known
Anastasia Jun 4
she was thinking again
about the seams in her legs
the stitches
and weeping.
it terrified her
the blood gushing out
torn skin
the flavor of pain
her eyes were locked open
and she stared at the seams
tears pouring from her sewed-open eyes
she sits on her pile of ashes
her blood mixing
making a muddy paste
that crusts on her eyelashes
her bruised cuts growing on her flesh
opening
and reopening
maggots gnawing on her body
eating the remnants of flesh
and she stares.
don't follow them
Star BG Apr 20
Sowing seeds become
a flowing blanket
of flowers to warm eyes
like... sewing stitches becomes
a blanket of warmth for self.
inspired by Mathew P Nangolo
Thanks
felicia Apr 2
but what if my head's over the days we'll be counting together,
while my heart's echoing the fire within us.

but what if my mind wins
while my heart aches

but what if my heart will be the one who wins
but my soul in stitches?

mind over matters?
kat victoria Mar 19
“life isn’t fair”
is what they keep telling me.
and they’re right.
it’s a cruel joke.
life gave you to me a thousand times
with every intention of ripping you away.
i kept trying to stitch us together,
make us one.
“no one can take you now.”

but the stitches ripped out
causing a wound that required surgery

no wonder i’m still hurting
Renn Powell Mar 18
a needle
a spool of thread
you offered to sew me back together
you helped take the stitches out
of the wounds you made
Sehar Feb 20
i know what love is
love is pain.


love is handing them the knife to slash at your chains
but hoping they
don't stab you in
the back.


love is disappointment

it is waiting up for messages never sent
hoping someone remembers
to remember you.


Love is a word over spent
very seldom meant
its the arrow of Cupid that kills you.
its an emotion that disappears
after it catches you unaware
its the want not the need that fills you
both elixir and poison
the apocalypse in the horizon
the fear of the loss that thrills you.
the walls not the bridges
the cuts not the stitches
the fire and the thirst that wills you.
love just is.
Star BG Nov 2018
Knit one, word.
Pearl, a verse.
That’s what a poet weaver does.

Pen becomes needle,
to wrap around visions.
Periods slip markers,
giving writer pause.

Lyrics surface in mind
to cable cast upon poem.
Daisy stitch, field blossoms
within a poesy song.

And in deepen breath
weaver binds off
to end with love stitch, word...
Perhaps, giving reader chance
to Run Stitch with eyes
cross finished textured page.
We are all weavers creating lives for the soul. Some do it in the tapestry of a poetry. Others Weave inside their lives to manifest experiences. And some even weave, with paint to make a masterpiece as DaVinci did.
We are all expert weavers constructing a road of stitch like steps. Steps that with focus can lead to peace.
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