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Hg Jun 9
i fear my spider hands
and the words
they spin to webs

they twist and twine
injecting rhymes
in every word that’s said

they type and type
and type biting venom
from in my head

i stay awake all night
writing till sunrise
stabs my bed

i feel arachnophobic
of these fangs
that can’t be fed

but everytime you grip them
you squash them
till their dead

with you holding my hands
I drop my pens and
my distress

with you holding my hands
my spider eyes can
get some rest
©Hg
thomezzz Jun 24
I've loved many boys
With different colored eyes
But the way I remember them is
By the shape of their hands

The way their thumbs curved
Or how their palms felt against my own
The weight of them on my thighs
Or how they ran through my hair

The times they zipped up my dress
And settled on my shoulders
The moments when they grazed my own
As they handed me my keys

The motion of them as they spoke
And the motionless of them when they were silent
The smoothness of them in the beginning
And the calluses after time had passed

Sometimes, I forget the faces of these boys
Or the way their voice sounded over the phone
But I'll never forget the way it felt
With their hands intertwined in my own
KM Hanslik Jul 2
Keep your eyes soft and your dreams
up on the highest shelf so you won't take them down too early;
keep everything that you spill in the dark locked
behind your teeth during the day, don't bring it out before dusk;
like secrets we drip over sidewalk cracks
from cotton-candy sticky fingers and leave our names
dissolved under each other's tongues, the warmth of you is keeping me company
as I try to crawl out of my blood again, they told you to leave
a bread-crumb trail in case your heart becomes too watered down by just visiting
to even remember the vacation at all; you carry
kisses on the knuckles of amputated arms,
driving through parking lots with your seatbelts on,
collections of constellations growing
in the bruises on the insides of your thighs, reminders
of salt & the whites of your eyes;

I'll always carry you around
like scuffed knees and the last time I told you "I'm okay",
I wanna press my fingers into you until your skin is melded
with fire and scraps of things that I could never be,
I hope steel rods grow out of your bones and I hope you gather
bruises before you gather dust,
we are all a little lost and lonely but that never stopped
the accumulation of well-spent nights
coughing up new ways to spell my name
(it sounded foreign before you)
leave this on repeat,
we're going in again.
Daisy Marrow Aug 2013
From the beginning
we were born to die.
There is no starting over.
There are no second chances.
With death carved on our skin
how could we live a normal life?

You could run but you'll one day run out of breath.
It's just a game.
You hide your pain and sorrow.
Save it for another day
when everything just falls apart and you can't pick it up.

Medicine and alcohol keeps you awake
As you hunt your demons and monsters.
You could choose to die but then this world would fall apart.
You give others that second chance,
you give them time to run and escape
while you slaughter their monsters,
and **** their demons instead.

You've got blood on your hands
and a soldier's heart.
Your brain is beautiful
just corrupted.
You smile to stay strong
and your humor hides your internal scars.

In the end
you'll look back on your youth
and notice you died a long time ago.
You never had the chance to be happy.
You'll never know the feeling of growing old with your lover
because all your lovers are either buried below your feet,
or somewhere up in the sky with the stars.
It's not that far,
one day you'll be with them.
Then, you'll finally be able to rest your tired hands.
Supernatural
Sam & Dean Winchester
C X Rutledge Dec 2014
These hands that have held you as a wild child in a dream are the same hands that throb to choke you and muffle your screams.
These hands which guided and guarded you down those stretches of hospital halls are now the hands that push you down to fall.
These hands once caressed the jagged, pink, scar where your heart used to lay become the hands that wish to tear it away.
These hand that made sure you fell asleep through all that pain now are the hands that would cut themselves to beat out your brain.
These hands that used to pray for you like a ***** ready to be ****** are clinched in two fist now ready to make the first throw.
These hands that ached for you, fed you,  and tried so ******* hard are just the hands of memories now deep tissue scars.
... These hands.. Would have killed anyone, in dirt and cold blood.. Are now the only hands holding back the rage of my flood.
.. These hands, they still work for you. Even if you're no longer here with me..... These hands, they're still here, waiting... One day.. You'll see.
Saw some one I haven't seen in years..  It just reminded me of how much I gave up for someone in their darkest time in life and how much I mistreated them... Gotta love the holidays :) maybe one day.
Gemma Jul 28
Place your head between my chest
and your hands on my hips
and your innocence in my veins-
Your vulnerability dances around on my fingertips
but would I use it against you ?
No , because I would never play with fate
plus you're too good to be true.
cait-cait Jun 18
im there when you want to
rip out your
hair and scream ,

knees on the floor, your face is
in my hands  .
                          .

there seems to be glass everywhere
you look
and
you're crying ,

you can see it.

i dont know who told you i was dangerous --
but

i can only be so kind .
who has ever thought about how i feel?

when i was little my mom had this vanity that was covered in mirrors and then draped with a cloth, and i have memories of trying to pull the cloth off to see the full thing, and also memories of being on her bed and being able to see myself where there were slits.
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