Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jade Dec 2023
When I uproot the hairs sprouting from the glabella
and strip my cupid’s bow of its wildflowers,
Frida Kahlo writhes in her grave.

She haunts me.

“You are beautiful.”
[unibrow and all]

“You are beautiful.”
[moustache and all]

“You are beautiful.”
[sadness and all]
Dawn King Jun 2015
It’s in the linear plane
The one that buzzes
Directly above the brow
It’s heavy and foul
Sludge like and slow
Dense with no flow
It is unappealing in color
With a dull toxic glow
It must be rid of
By placing an amulet
Made of Amethyst stone
Upon the glabella
For many days in a row
Until a duplex conduit
Is understood between
Cosmos and soul
EP Robles Nov 2018
Petrichor is blue on sad days
sometimes comes back as fire
but on happy wamble it's pink
as a flower

Aglet! Aglet! i tore your
armour now i walk with loose
shoelace!

Only on myleftFoot do i fear
life
AND vagitus speaks clearly
suing me within my heart
cut a star at glabella space
watching the cosmos drink
the memories of all my love
and pain
And she wore natiform on her
chest with a big heart bursting
seeds of flowers one that fell
between her legs and grew a
wild rose that ate me whole
i should be comforted
i should be comforted
i should be arrested

I'm my favorite patient
writing prescription
for mental constipation
burnt like cornicione
but i'm relaxing
and took ferrule stabbing
the tip of my eyes
which hides my burnt brain

:: 07-04-2016 ::
dlroene Aug 2022
These floruoscent lights
Sits behind the glabella

Black the highest quality of rest
Brown behind my lids

I need a break
Gemini pen Jul 2020
The Eerie Tavern

A cracked Porcelain,
Prone to be treated with delicacy
Though bound to rive facilely, but,
Can it hang on to its bite like a wild dog
Or give up,  like a broken legged Mantis

Green eyed partridge ,
Dances to the pitched Vocable of its nest
Cradled against its own Soft feather
Does it wait for an ill fated worm to crawl up
Or hunt the unyielding insect

The Eerie Tavern,
That makes hair stand at the back of neck
With its cold breeze smooching the iced glass
Will danger lurk in the darkest shadow of the inn
Or warmth,  Tranquil spread across its hinges

The limp and the blind,
Set out on a rickety and scarred thoroughfare
Had the blind has an eye on his glabella
And the limp has a leg that doesn't falter
Impairment might not cause a truce

Tortoise and the Porcupine,
One with shell as hard as Brick
The other with pine as detriment as poison
Had it been they both lack their cover shield
They'd have been stuffed in a coffin

©Pen Of A True Gemini™
The Bleeding Hearted Pen

— The End —