Those elastic hands
having but coupled a river of tears
and wisps of yielding smoke
to begin with
a life
unknown and unblinking
like a pair of dead eyes
and play pretend
or pretend to play
for watery dreams
and smokey must-bes
and ought nots
somewhere in line with a broken smile
and a misty sense of senselessness
a spinal cord snapped
so did million daggers shoot out
from each vertebra
tears flooded out of her ears
and smoke forced the air
out of her lungs.
She turned away from the dread
so she could rest her head
on soft shoulders
and yet
none could bear ever the weight
of her sorrow.
Now both lungs dead
eyes closed
lying on her bed
she carries her weight with a finger
and carves out eyes on her forehead
she swallows light to linger
forever in her chest
as a heart
nobody would give her.
if i spoke the words in my head no eyes would stay dry,
my silence is protecting you from the venomous bite,
please don't ask me to speak to you.

let me disappear into the background where all are safe,
inside i bleed from wounds carved deep into the soul,
please kept away from my mind.

choking on tears is the only sound that can be heard,
doctors put band-aids on bullet wounds,
please ignore my bloody body.
I want honey and fresh roses at my doorstep but only from you. Is it wrong that I don’t want to be loved by anyone but you? I’m afraid I’ll get hurt again because the last boy with curly brown hair left me in the dirt for me to swallow pain meds and anxiety pills just to make it through. I'm sorry if I’ll never again be able to open up to love again as I did with him, I don’t want you to turn into a stranger who holds my darkest secrets. I want you to love me like rainbows after a storm and soft kittens cuddling up to say goodnight. I want you to love me. Love me.
Honey and fresh roses
POETRY-
Words written
To heal the wounds
From words spoken
Sam Jul 10
I might always see the past
but I can never see the future
to know what words will last
after every wounds are sutured.
Lyn-Purcell Jul 9
Pain flows close to heart
Happy thoughts now that you're gone
Whispers of the past
Still by the window sill
Re-examining myself,
the wounds that haven't healed, the scars that haven't faded.
Lyn xxx
Lyn-Purcell Jul 8
Sitting here haunted
My thoughts are reservoirs
But they can be art

For I'm living art
Filled with emotional memory
Untapped potential

Pain that always drips
and aches as I age in life
But it helps me grow

And though I do love,
I am wrapped in hatred's thorns
Not all wounds will heal
I have changed, but some things don't.
Undoubtedly due to my ambition and drive for stability, I do tend to hold on to the hate that was put in me long ago. And it is a pain that I have had many in my life denounce as something insignificant...
Some part of me wants to let that hate go, but the other part is afraid to.
I just count my lucky stars that I'm still here.
This headache is just reminding me of my wounds and scars.
But this is a conduit to which I can let it out.
Thanks everyone,
Be back soon!
Lyn xxx
Lydia Jul 7
the last thing anyone wants to hear when their hurting is that
"it will get better with time"
but it's honestly the truth

one day you really will be going about your daily life and that baseball in your gut won't be there anymore

you will find yourself slowly but surely in a different state of mind, so much so that you won't even realize you're not sad anymore
you'll find yourself around those new people everyone said you would meet, and doing all those new things everyone said you would do

the sun is still going to shine and there will be days the sky is bright blue and the best songs come on the radio all in a row

But one day you'll be driving down the road or folding your laundry and it will hit you,
that pain you thought you had forgotten
but this time you'll be stronger, you'll be wiser and you will be better for it

when it comes out of nowhere you will actually feel content for being human but also uplifted because it's over

when I was so sad and heartbroken I used to think "time heals all wounds" was a saying people said who had never felt real sorrow
now I know the ones who say it have lived their life through the hurting and came out feeling just like I do right now
No fentanyl, midazolam or propofol.
Operation: childhood destruction using
non- sterile gloves.
Removal of parts of the brain and heart,
septic nightmares infect the mind.
   The body shivers, loses control.
Gangrene of the soul.

Antiseptic, aromatic soap,
scraping the epidermal dirt.  
  Scratching so hard, unable
to get rid of the hurt.

Happiness decapitated,
enters the cemetery gates
pointing with her morphine-coated fingers
to her tomb.
Chronic torture and no remorse.
A pre-meditated murder of dreams and hopes.
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