Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sadie Grace Feb 5

to open yourself up to be wounded
to spread yourself out
like a target, my heart the bullseye
       easy to spot
       easy to target
       easy to exert your control over

why do I keep falling for it?
                     as something real

something I will not be foolish enough to give away again
George Krokos Oct 2023
Oh, it's in this area of love, I've been wounded too many times
that my heart has gone numb as I'm now left dabbling in meters and rhymes.
Simple Observation #465. From 'Simple Observations' ongoing writings since the early 90's.
Savio Fonseca Dec 2022
It's painful, to write My Love Story.
I've to scratch and claw My Head.
Bite My Tongue and clench My Teeth.
Until the right Words I find in Bed.
My Words are written with sadness,
with the Stars listening to My Pain.
On Dark Night I hum a Lullaby,
in Harmony with the falling Rain.
I write to Heal, My wounded Heart.
The Moon helps Me with Her Glow.
Clouds remind Me to take some rest
and the Trees say, "Go a bit Slow".
I Write to escape from this World,
Day and Night I keep penning My Art.
I Write on HePo, to soothe My Soul
and Heal, My Broken Heart.
little lion Nov 2021
you kissed the ****** scars
that adorned my fingertips,

only to shatter the heart you helped to repair, then leave me to pick up the broken pieces once again.


In seven years,
my body will be one that is
untouched by you...

but my heart may not be so lucky.
I never asked you to.
Ellis Reyes Sep 2021
Blinding flash
Eardrums burst
Blood, so much blood
Is it mine?
My eyes!

Snipping ripping
Scissors and hands tear away at my clothes
Water or something splashes
Burning everywhere
The smell...
**** and fire and burned meat
Is this what death smells like?

No carried
On a litter
Now flying
Something jabbed...

Far away

Wheels rolling
Machine sounds

Here, Now
Bright lights
Searing pain
Masked faces
Muffled voices
IV bags
Machine sounds
No answers

Where's my leg?
Marissa Taylor May 2021
the past still haunts me
it's living in my mind
&when I think ive healed
my wounds are cut back open.
as im about to bleed out
you bandage my heart
Shannon Soeganda Jan 2021
Beseeching words
genuinely rooted from
the wounded, rotten heart

to the cold, thin air of
"I have nothing left to say---"
Thank you for putting up with me, dear self. For teaching me to make peace with my demon; not to get rid of it.
Remembrances of Wounded Knee

It was a beautiful dream
that ended in the silence
of the dead laying
huddled and scattered
upon the winter ground.

James E. Roethlein copyright 2021
Next page