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Angel Jan 31
Let’s call this one

The bruised soul

You may know what caresses your heart
But baby,
you know nothing

Nothing but your own self is to blame for what is
and what will be

Because the universe
Only gives one chance
For it is its authentic self &
What it gives

My love you’re the burning
And ever existing stars
Of what is and what will be

Take pride in that
And that only

Please
Quick thoughts of the alcohol induced mind
ghazal Dec 2018
you're gonna leave when the rain stops.
when my lonely world is joined by you the pain stops.
and i hope you don’t feel pressured but please stay.
because once the clouds pass and the trees cease to sway,
the memories come-
the memories remain.
it’s not your responsibility i know that,
but when it comes to implementing change my minds blank.
my heart ends up getting thrown around-
a free for all.
and i cant seem to focus without you-
my adderall.
and each day that passes,
my tolerance grows faster,
the world gets louder,
my brain feels crowded,
and my heart beats faster.
so calm me down with a kiss or two.
nothing about me wants to feel this kind of blue.
maybe my neck, get that a darker shade of hue.
so hold me close, i’ll hold you too.
and in this cold weather,
i somehow feel less tethered
to the world outside theres somehow less pressure.
but the raindrops stop tapping on my window
and you’re gone before i get a chance to whisper

“don’t go”.
insta: @faithpoetrybook
I seem to prefer the cold
As if to sooth my bruised heart
So it freezes and no longer bleeds
Frozen around and between the parts
Because a cold heart is still whole
Even if it can no longer feel
When the warmth has been lost
Losing its attraction to appeal
Only a fool would fall in love
Having the intention to steal
This fool's gold of a heart away
One that has been shut and sealed
Van Byrde Dec 2018
If all the best characters are a little broken...
does that make
me
the favourite?
Jordan LC Murphy Sep 2018
Be a emotionless robot.
Work really hard in life while others take the credit.
Have children so they can be slaves for others.
Be nice to everyone and receive nothing back.
Continuously take out loans and debts and pay them off so the fattest cats don't starve.
Pay taxes so the royals eat well.
Pay rent, road tax and insurance and the military'll say thanks.
But most important of all pay your Tv license so you can watch them spend all of your ******* hard earned money.

Jobs a gooden.
Normal ****
Tanzim Ahmed Aug 2018
Falling in love
Such an apropos description.
Because the exhilarating
weightless
Sensation of flying
inevitably
Comes to a brutal conclusion.

And I'm left flat
Gasping
Sould bruised
Shattered
And broken
Follow my instagram page: __poems.poison___
Bellissima May 27
Through creaking doors
walk my ideas of people.
Cracked frames, bent and sullen.
Groaning hinges, bones
bruised and rusted.
Samantha Cunha Nov 2018
When your mind of steel
drifts to the feel
of us together
in
the promise land
pain & sorrow
is a fleeting thought
as
men like you never
get distraught
my love;
I worry not
for the coming
of karma
is my
escaping of the dark
while you embark
further
deeper
silver swords
for the demons
you fight
my intentions were pure
& secure
your intent was skewed
mind was bruised
TT Jun 26
And finally I realized
I don’t want us to hurt each other anymore
Vania Irene Nov 2018
i have seen too many women in my life
broken, bruised,
and wounded
by men who could not calm
their dck.
Nat Lipstadt Aug 2018
<>
The Instigation:
Edmund  Black, commenting on “weary weighted,”

I agree with Kim; This is poetry at its best :)“

<•>

both of you shush!

there is no “better” in poetry

mine yours theirs, alive or not,

just gasps tears and blood
whimsical smiles and isles
cuts and burns of pained revelations,
hidden in fog,
that words try to delete away,
through the shrouded mists of
human tissues,
unconstrained by the
bounded shape
of the human cell,
our first, our own
self-imposed jail

tissue, too,
baby soft, or,
purple beating majestic bruised blotches
by those weaklings whose
kindness never
fully developed;  
or old man mine whose
skin cells erodes, so poems and light
weary weighted, lightly flake off
for your “betterment”
mostly tho for worse

good humans all await,
in patientce lightly hidden,
residents of dark sunspots
in the glaring existence exposer
of the unlit lighthouse whose time will come

they get it

how we get there unimportant

get there

GET THERE

get there
that is the poetic
mission critical

no path best or style preferred-
no compare just, but,
any path that
lifts and elevates,
to the commonplace


the common place

where all costarred, universal,
where common is the temple mount
of highest praise, holy smoke rising,

a place that
that discloses and closes,
is scribed/described honestly as
a connective,
which is the simplest
successive

call my poems,
blessedly common!

that an honorable,
so gladly accepted
and
so much more meaning-full
than merely best or better



for that,
I’d gladly weep,
for no praise
ever been
bettered





8/2/18 406pm
on the jitney to my isle
the instigation: Edmund black › “weary weighted, I agree with Kim .... This is poetry at its best :)“
anitajehu Oct 2018
Do you miss me like I do?
Do you cry at the thought of those days?
Do you regret having met me?
Does it hurt when one mentions my name?
I'm told you're not worth tears,
But how  do I stop them
It's so strange how someone mends a shattered  heart,
Breaks it again, like its nothing,
Someone  you knew so much,
Becomes a stranger to you,
The most painful part is...
How do I tell my friends that you left,
Without reason,
How do I stop missing my past,
When trust was not an issue,
Cause I'm scared of crashing again,
I'm scared of meeting  new people,
I'm scared of moving on,
The past feels better than my future,
But I can't blame anyone
When I gave the chance,
Isaac Aug 2018
Life is so brutal
It mangles the heart
Beaten and bruised
From the very start
In a world fallen
From its original glory
We need to bring Jesus
Back to the story
His voice will heal
And mend your soul
If you give him the time
He can make you whole
Each day is a chance
To let him touch you
If you open your heart
His words will renew
Written 12 August 2018
ryn Oct 2014
Escape pods*
Ferried fears
  Gaping heart
   Falling tears
    Dishevelled mind
     Emotional unrest
    Watered ground
    Familiar guest
   Questioned answers
  Unanswered questions
  Glassy eyes
   Increased tension
    Dissipating hope
     Chewed confidence
    Broken spirit
   Unwelcomed sentence
  Failing health
Unstable mind
Choked fingers
Flying blind
 Pathetic plea
  Stretched thin
    Battered insides
     Uncomfortable skin
      Eventual stop
       Frightful frights
        Perceived freedom
         Within sight
        Bruised being
     Absent gods
    Relying upon
   *
Escape pods
Don't ask...I don't even know...
soak Jul 2
Breaking and aching from far too much friction,
I'm stricken with toenails too long for these shoes
I'll lick the wicked and snicker, stick to sickness in my..... knickers?
Robin Lemmen Aug 2018
I love company
In the form of anxious thoughts
I am less lonely
Accompanied by twenty screaming voices
Tearing at my every inch of flesh
Pouring pain into my veins
Crying is good for the soul
They laugh in union
As I lie lonely in my bed
Hoping someone will find me
Bruised and broken
And take me into their arms
Hold me like a child
But you are too grown to feel such things
These voices whisper, licking blood
Carefully off their fingers
Spikes poke at my sides leaving no room
For me to move or breathe
I am slowly dying
And yet I tell you I am fine
For if I were to ever admit
That this is how I truly feel
My demons would take form
No longer shadows but figures
Ready to take me whole
Katie Miller Jan 8
Two-tone lips
Chewed raw from a tempted anxiety
And a stitched together string
Told to keep quiet unless you have a lie to tell
So you can protect the connected streams of expectations
A lie balanced on one lip, the truth falling from the other
Catch it quick before it spills

Burnt bruised skin
Strangled by the soft palms of mercy
With a choked lie so we will protect their name
A yellow-blue watercolor of forgotten truths
Blended together with the concealed coverings
A punch again and one more hit
Block the kick to stop the pain

Obsidian knife blades
Cut deeper than the steel that you use
Black explosive rock glazed with the promise of blood
A line cut into it that separates truth from lie
A simple consequence of being the one who was there
A chance game token of who can get the better death
A knife that only reveals the bruised lips of the liar that we are
I don't entirely know what this poem means, but it definitely means something, I'm still formulating a complete, coherent meaning for it. The two-toned lips was an idea that just kinda came to my mind, and the obsidian and blood combination came from a recent trip to New Mexico, when our tour guide was having us imagine the obsidian arrows covered in blood, and I found that artistic and beautiful, so I used my own version of it in my poem.
zebra Feb 2017
forgive me my darling
hollow beauty
but seeing you so gaunt
with
sunken dark eyes
and skin like gray soap
makes me feel
your easily breakable
already so close to death
my **** could crack your pelvis
and bird delicate ribs

inspired skeleton dancing
your body exclaims to all
a sensual exhibition
of slow suicide
my bloodless blossom
brave breatharian
your favorite math
subtraction
by multiplied
delicious starvations

you may need a strong man
deaths final instrument
who will love you
with tender crushes
darkly ******

come naked
spread wide my lovely grotesque
nestle in my arms
coffins embrace
to be bruised
while tremulously kissed
i will turn you to crumbles and powder
to finish sweetly
what you have started so long ago
My poems remain explorations of the subconscious ******
If i where a film maker or a novelist  you  would see me telling a story, not judge me, although i admit to my paraphilias  
These poems  are lunar anamorphic streams of consciousness from the deep chaotic subterranean glitz of transgressive  impulses we all share
Read them if you dare...You might find that part of yourself that you don't want you to know about and then again  you may feel more complete some how if you do....I always loved that dark thing that sleeps with in me
Abigale May 13
-Pantoum-
The Reason Yet To Be Shared

I am so confused
how did it get this far
Why am I so bruised
why on my heart lays a single scar

How did it get this far
I have no clue
why on my heart lays a single scar
The scar that makes me so blue

I have no clue
It is yet to be declared
The scar that makes me so blue
The reason yet to be shared

It is yet to be declared
Why I am so bruised
The reason yet to be shared
I am so confused
This is my first pantoum please don't hate I know it's bad
Mark Boschi Apr 2
at night you can find me
planted onto the tile floor
the shower water gushing against my hunched back feels like a hug
each trickle resembles your fingers
- i'm trying to erase you,
scrub away the marks you've left on my wrists,
the bruised knees
but your threatening undertone
rings in my head
stings the sterile lights,
they will always flicker.

Mark Boschi
Robin Lemmen Jul 2018
His confessions were slow and seldom
Whereas yours fall rapid and steady
From your lips, dipping down
To kiss my body
His loneliness was everlasting
Whereas yours settles for nothing
Looks me square in the eyes
Daring me not to smile
His words left me bruised and blackened
Whereas yours find soft healing
When you tell me you'll do small things too
To make me happy

I don't know

If I deserve

You.
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