"reopening" poems
Like the winters long lost petals
as it will compose into dirt,
this new dandelion vessel
overcomes my hearts inert.
We're all scared of something
we lie awake wet with grey.
With healing backs reopening old wounds
the bandage from you, my first aid.
Jul 9, 2011
Jul 9, 2011 at 12:40 PM UTC
how many paths, how many loves
living and changing and ever climbing
learning and growing and springing over
like purple sunsets entering red mountains
each experience reopening your eyes, gaining
wisdom and freedom, ever increasing strength
Atlas holding Gaia, never ending strength
becoming charged and overcome with love
encircled with history and caring, gaining
a repertoire of eternal connections, climbing
into dream fields surrounded by mountains
will this serenity ever be over?
though hopefully the uncertainty will be over
and that we will have strength
to conquer all the encountered mountains
created by each newly attained love
embrace avenues crossed and obstacles climbed
to have pleasure and confidence gained
though will paradise ever be gained
allowing forgetfulness of pain we're over
while still remembering friendships we climbed
every node you pass gives strength
for the next stage of love
giving elemental power to move mountains
our past shadows creating fresh mountains
to relive, to adore; understanding gained
so many different forms of love
meaningfully distinct, passed but never over,
each one providing new wonderful strength
to allow us unique nirvanas climbed
always strive for larger heights climbed
those hopes will be worth mountains
don't fear any loss of strength,
weakness endured is often willpower gained
hate and sorrow should never over-
come the treasureful bliss of love
*Don't be afraid of the climb to the top of the mountain
unbelievable strength will be gained,
all the adventures that are over will become unforgettable love*
Aug 29, 2012
Aug 29, 2012 at 7:47 PM UTC
hand intertwined in mine
he whispered a secret
and it tickled my neck
I closed my eyes and giggled
as he led me down the hallway
reopening them, I saw Him
He stared at me and then at our hands, his hand
He walked right by us and never smiled
and in that moment I knew
He would never feel guilt for what He did
for the pain He had put me through
for using me
But that was the first time I realized it didn't matter
because His eyes were full of hurt
at the sight of me holding a different hand
maybe He hadn't only used me
maybe He had felt a slight bit of love for me
and it felt amazing to know It wasn't all a lie
that I hadn't wasted a year of my life
that there was some truth in our old disgusting relationship
We walked past and He never spoke
and that was alright
because I finally felt closure
and now I had the opposite of a lie - truth
and held my hand at that moment
never letting go
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 3:26 PM UTC
Here I am baring my scars and there are people calling me brave and this is never what I wanted. I wanted to show you my scars because I feel like a fraud and I wanted to show you my scars so you would know how pathetic I really am but you don't understand, my scars are not battle wounds, they are not badges I've earned, I do not wear them proudly, my scars are representative of all the times I was too weak to fight those battles, my scars are surrenders and do not call me brave if I didn't even bother fighting. I wanted to show you my scars so you would stop telling me how strong I am because I am not strong, I am weak and I am still hiding from you because you think these scars are things I have overcome but these scars are the very things that haunt me and who are you to know what I am going through simply because I have told you? I am falling apart and these scars are reopening, I am falling apart at the seams and you are calling me a hero but heroes do not hate themselves like this. Here I am baring my scars and there are people calling me brave and this is never what I wanted.
Mar 1, 2015
Mar 1, 2015 at 10:41 PM UTC
It’s almost 6, and the night is fighting with the last rays of sun,
Its armor and sword are both stronger the glow of sun, Stars comes out like your eyes, breathing down my neck,
Sitting across the Chinese restaurant in, with a cigarette dangling in your fingers blazing as harshly as bitumen laying on road as your skin on my skin was last night
You have been constantly eying me like I am breast of the freshly cut chicken,
I take slow sips of my beer, opening and reopening my fortune cookie, but it’s already been cracked and my fate has been sealed,
I pity the planets and us, we all are stuck in our orbits, and we always talk about the corruption in Russia and about pirates in Somalia,
We take detour of this city, and only this one, driving circles around the Wal-Mart, buying coffee beans and condoms,
I quiet my raging mind, which writes essays about the Greek gods and Atlantis; it fights with the night, but night plays word-games,
It twists its words into lyrics of lovers and pours them in my mouth, and twists its fingers in my ******
Its, almost 8, there are two bottles on the table, emptied like my heart, your ash tray full like your lungs with smoke and lust
Its 8, and sky is cobalt with streaks of lighter shades passing through like the Helicopters on Independence Day and I take this as my sign, and leave 20 dollar bill and a letter which screams “I’m gone”,
Bustling street and a Vegas sky welcomes my heart to the possibility of finding Atlantis.
Oct 22, 2013
Oct 22, 2013 at 5:32 AM UTC
betrayal is the beginnings of pure agony and heartbreak. betrayal is the feeling of loneliness inside your stomach, clawing and ripping, letting the acid into your blood stream. it burns. and aches. betrayal is the sensation felt when a dagger is placed ever so delicately against your back and then proceeds to be rammed into your spine, paralyzing you with misery. these daggers shoot at your closed wounds, reopening them, re-exposing them to the cruelty of the world. betrayal is the feeling of a hand wrapped tightly around your trachea, restricting your breathing and forcing you to just sit back and take it, and let it happen, because there's nothing you can do about it except take the excruciating pain and close your eyes. time cannot heal betrayal. time cannot replace the damaged inflicted by betrayal. regardless of forgiving, betrayal is permanent.
Mar 27, 2018
Mar 27, 2018 at 6:41 AM UTC
It was once
A never-ending-everlasting
forever-staying-never-breaking
never-snapping-never-changing
thick as maple syrup fresh from the tree
long enough to tie up the galaxies together
TWICE
this was the hope I had.
I threw it around you
the seventh time we met,
and I tied one end to your left ankle
and the other end to the space in my heart that I had
saved just for you
I didn't know I was saving it for you.
Because I had no idea
that I would end up caring this much.
That I would write poems about you until three in the morning
and turn those poems into songs
only to forget the melody.
That you would be the reason
for my curled up legs sitting in the corner
and the floor a sea.
My floor is still a sea.
And no one warned me
that you would be the root of this
black tree that is thriving inside my head
despite the dull axe that thumps all day long
yet produces
only bruises
no scratches
I have enough of those,
because apparently the consequence of love
is pain.
And I know a lot about pain.
My hands will be red and blistered for an eternity
from the rope burns you gave me, because
every time you strayed,
I would tug
and then you'd stay.
But your pulls got harder
and your left ankle stronger...
so did mine.
I learned to stop picking at fresh wounds
to let them callous instead
my hands are as thick as a bear
and I've got you to thank for that.
I thought
that you would never stray again
after that nasty big cut you got on your forehead
from wandering too far
you crept up the edge of the cliff
inch by inch
but you crept too far.
You returned with that cut and
swore you'd stay yet
now your wound is reopening
and your big toes are already off the cliff
and this rope I tied around you
this once massive rope
this once massive hope
is now
a stringy little thread.
My hands are shaking and
my wrists are bleeding
but I'm still holding on.
Because my real hope
is anchored to something
much stronger than the both of us.
Oct 7, 2013
Oct 7, 2013 at 3:59 AM UTC
In the light of invisible moon,
Standing at an edge of tropical ocean
In reflections of the silver light
Just as this water reflects the face
So as your face reflects the heart.
Many shimmering images dance
Reopening the door of latched strings
With each splashing and dashing wave hitting
A host,of golden daffodils,beside the lake
Beneath the trees,in the breeze fluttering
There stands a fine tree- lonesome
In the north on a barren height
In slumber,Ice and snowstorm
Wrap it in sheets of white.
It dreams about a palmtree
Far in the east, alone,
Staring, in sorrow and silence,
At a blazing wall of stone.
A single fir-tree, lonely,
On a northern mountain height,
Sleeps in a white blanket,
Draped in snow and ice.
His dreams are of a palm-tree,
Who, far in eastern lands,
Weeps, all alone and silent,
Among the burning sands.
Jul 17, 2015
Jul 17, 2015 at 5:15 AM UTC
It's the thing you feel when he stares
The fluttering of wings that fills your head
Its the goodbye waiting to happen
The one you should have seen coming
Its the life that has no light
That you feel once he's gone
For all this is the way of love
Its tearing down your heart
While trying to mend
The single thing he broke
But that's not right
For he broke more than just one thing
He took the soul you had
Twisting it in two
Leaving it rotten in hell
He broke the heart you once healed
From a previous love
Not only reopening the old,
But making new scars, too
He broke your mind
Scarring your memories of everything you once held dear
Making the new ones in terror
The final thing he broke
The one that really counts
Is this body you hold dear
For he left reminders of his skin within yours
The way he touched
The way he kissed
To the way he stared
Now ever time you say your fine
Everyone will know its a lie
Because he made what he did to you visible
And you can't hide what's not inside
He destroyed me in four ways
First my mind
Second my heart
Third my soul
Fourth my body
Nov 11, 2016
Nov 11, 2016 at 1:26 PM UTC
Monday morning, I am hoping these unlucky days are coming to an end if not then I hope the fates will grant me a reprieve. A little over a week until Christmas and I am not ready; I am not accustomed to waiting until the eleventh hour to start and finish shopping but unfortunately situations from the last two-weeks have dictated this plight. So many things happening internally and externally, I am losing track of time and the opportunities for social engagement. The emotional scars keep reopening, the drizzle of crimson nightmares providing the scent of allure to my demons; my fears and frustrations clanging upon the anvil in my head.
The winter solstice is approaching; it will be night soon and the sun is frightened.
Dec 16, 2013
Dec 16, 2013 at 12:59 PM UTC
“i never knew how good i’d be at reopening old wounds
until you left me.”
Nov 22, 2022
Nov 22, 2022 at 3:51 PM UTC
1. Every time I look you in the eye, I see thunderclouds. Yes, your laugh is silver bells on a spring day and your smile could have caused Mona Lisa to grin all the way in, but they’re right. Your eyes are the behind the scenes and your body is a movie. I don’t enjoy watching movies.
2. I can’t keep up with the storyline. Chapters fifteen and sixteen were about homecomings, and now the main character’s digging his own grave again. You never explained to me how he went from dancing in the moonlight to rubbing ash on his head, just when I thought we were getting already to the ******
3. The wounds are reopening. I thought you knew better than to pick at the stitches.
4. Your heart must be handcuffed to mine. I feel it every time you hurt, every time you pull, every time you cry out and ask God, “Why?” The only difference is that every inch you move away is a sucker punch in my gut. I’ve never had a high tolerance for pain.
5. Do you know how many poems I’ve written about you? Try walking outside at night and count every street lamp from here to the opposite side of the sea. My words burn too, but they never seem to be bright enough for you to see. You’re still tripping in broad daylight.
6. I’m tired of standing behind you.
7. Hope is an anchor, but I’m starting to drown.
8. Sometimes I scream in frustration because the seeds are taking too long to grow. It’s so easy to forget that they will. It’s even easier to forget that I’m not the savior. But I try to be, so I’m putting down this yoke, little by little.
9. Seeds do grow and their trees make enough rings to tell stories to last generations.
10. I heard in a song that love alone is worth the fight. Maybe I’ll continue this battle long enough for you to see that we’ve already won this war, so that the next time I look at you in the eye, I’ll see the northern lights.
Feb 7, 2014
Feb 7, 2014 at 11:29 AM UTC
You lifted me up.
Took me to a place faraway
A place where I could belong.
Up in the clouds
Where the angels soared across the skies
Dancing with fairies.
Finally I felt like I belonged.
I could be me
And not fear what others thought.
After battling with words and swords,
I could rest and let the scars heal.
You lifted me up and I was safe.
Slowly, oh so slowly,
I started to fall.
Slow enough that no one saw.
Now I’m stuck, trying to claw my way out.
Old wounds are reopening,
Blood and tears fall across the ground.
A ground where the devil controls the outcomes,
Where demons crawl
Fighting to be number one.
I realize now, that you only threw me to the winds
Letting me rise up, only to fall again,
And not being there to catch me.
You threw me to the winds
And now I am falling,
Paying the price of trusting you.
You moved on,
Faster than the soaring angels.
Just like the warring demons who won a fight only to move on to the next.
You took your turn
At making me happy
Just like everyone else has.
But just like them
You left me to the dogs
Not wanting to remember that I am just another person.
But now,
Now it is my turn.
My turn to move forward.
I’m on my own
But for once,
I’m not afraid.
I can look up at the sky
And see the outlines of the angels and fairies.
Finally, I can see where I am to go.
You may have thrown me to the winds
And left me to fall
But now I know.
So thank you.
It’s my turn to move on,
Now that I know where to go.
You had your turn,
So now,
I guess it is my turn to move on from here.
Jul 15, 2012
Jul 15, 2012 at 4:57 PM UTC
How are you still here?
Are you locked in a maze of my memories?
Trying franticly to escape and
screaming your way into consciousness
New pills but the same tunes
It’s been so long and yet some days
It feels like I’m still trapped
In the personal hell you constructed for me
You owned not only the key
Nor the concrete windowless walls
Nor the velvet-thick darkness surrounding me
as I begged for you to let your light in again
but you owned me too
You didn’t even need chains to keep me there
My heavy heart held me down more than any metal could
I can’t even say I escaped
Because you
let me go
Twice
Both times reopening the deadbolts to call me back
And obediently I came crawling in
And then you shoved me out again
This time without warning
The light burned my eyes and my skin
My hands bled as I scratched at the door
Tears choking all the words back to my stomach
And when I couldn’t feel anything anymore
I grabbed a knife
and carved a map into my skin
Desperately waiting for you to call me back again
But you didn’t
And I’d like to say that I’m ok now
That you no longer torture me
But I’m not.
And you still do.
Of course she helps
I swear someone sent an Angel
And I’m not worthy of her
But she still loves me
And I’m terrified that one day
my demons will tear through her wings
just like you tore through my heart
And though she helps mend it again
It will never be whole again
Because you stole a piece for your own sick collection.
Aug 4, 2016
Aug 4, 2016 at 7:54 PM UTC
Sometimes I crave to write just to feel my keyboard brush against my fingertips
I agree with their word of choice with the press of a comma
A small betrayal when they rewrite our secrets
But I crave that deep ache that turns my bones brittle
That heartbreak plea for more when the space bar sings
"No more," My tongue pleas
But the stories are tangling around my body like a noose
the stitches in my skin are reopening with the press of a button
and at last, I feel free.
_____________________________
"What have you done."
Pressing save with a confidence the tongue will always lack.
"Something you should've."
Nov 14, 2018
Nov 14, 2018 at 3:12 PM UTC
She’s afraid of
reopening old wounds.
Scared of feeling
the burns
beneath her skin.
She’d rather feel
consciously numb
than ever have to
confess her self-reflections,
because she’s afraid rejection
will leave her lifelessly
alone.
Jan 12, 2021
Jan 12, 2021 at 4:26 PM UTC
The girl who hates herself
Sitting in the bathtub with bruises on her thighs-cut marks on her hips
And stitches on her wrist
It's been 24 hours science she took that blade to her wrist
So effortlessly, like she's practiced the dangers of the game
To know just how deep to dig
To stop her beautiful heart
It's a cliche story, but tragic nonetheless
The story of a restless teenager that forgives the unspeakable
But can never forgive herself
Forgive herself for the weight she's put on
Can't forgive herself, for he's scarred her lips
When he kissed her, he created a disease.
A poison. Passed to his victim.
Self hatred is what she breathes
Always under the sea.
Wishes to join Deaths journey of pain
But her mother, her mothers heart breaks
Why is her little girl so full of hate?
Comfort, beg, don't do it again
I love you, I love you
Her father
Her father thinks she's ******
He doesn't understand the selfishness of
His beautiful, abusive daughter
She cries,her tears so bitter
Please, please, the liquid red dripping
Filling the tub, clouded water
Mom, mommy, I want you to save me
Dad, daddy, why don't you love me?
She wants to be dead, she feels it again
The overwhelming tiredness, sadness
And it's too much
Reopening the stitches
It's too much
Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 8:56 AM UTC
Recovery is like a closed wound
That keeps reopening.
Sometimes it doesn't hurt
Sometimes it stops aching
Sometimes it blends into the skin in such a way
That you forget it's there.
Other days
It itches and stings
And you keep picking
Until you rip the scab off completely
The blood covers you
You become trapped by this illness
You are smothered.
Eating disorders are open wounds
That heal over time
But the mark leaves a scar
That is there forever.
So I cannot say I was bulimic
And frankly, I wasn't a very good one
But I am a bulimic
At peace one day
In raging battle zones the next.
The important part
Is that the shot never fires
The enemy never wins
The wound never stays
Open.
Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 11:56 PM UTC
I think it's time to say goodbye
To Hello Poetry completely
It's made me laugh and made my cry
But it hurts me more, secretly
It's my 200th poem and it is the time
To stop writing to a void
To stop rereading poems of love
When I have another choice
My heart keeps hurting with every poem
That reminds me of you and I
So instead of reopening unhealing wounds
I decided to say goodbye
Goodbye
Mar 13, 2015
Mar 13, 2015 at 11:08 AM UTC
she was thinking again
about the seams in her legs
the stitches
and weeping.
it terrified her
the blood gushing out
torn skin
the flavor of pain
her eyes were locked open
and she stared at the seams
tears pouring from her sewed-open eyes
she sits on her pile of ashes
her blood mixing
making a muddy paste
that crusts on her eyelashes
her bruised cuts growing on her flesh
opening
and reopening
maggots gnawing on her body
eating the remnants of flesh
and she stares.
Jun 4, 2019
Jun 4, 2019 at 9:39 AM UTC
Thunder booms
Lightning streaks
A storm inside my soul for weeks.
Tender wounds
No one sees
Reopening with painful ease
I heard your name
I miss your face
Its cold here, in this lonely place
They see me walk
They say your name
Whispers stinging 'such a shame'
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 12:38 AM UTC
The wounds of separation constantly weeping. Never healing properly because you keep picking and reopening the scars.
Biting and chewing until there's nothing left. Your self destructive, emotionally cannibalistic nature is apparent.
Everybody cares, right?
Why else would the constant lies and condescending suggestions be bombarded upon your already weary mind.
Even in theses recurring dreams you find no relief. For others dreams are fantastic things of beauty. For you they're as dangerous as yellow cake in the hands of the despot.
Constantly changing, pushing and detaching now. Starring into the mirror. Who is this?
Things we don't talk about.
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 12:17 PM UTC
It's been years since my skin was flood ravished
with red rust river, flowing through my body like God's tears.
I savored the taste of it all; they were my
only pills after all.
lengthwise slices dried up and connect
like constellations in space making paths I never knew existed.
(and they were patches with many hues
that I love seeing every day.)
blanket of violet night sky covered me
(like never ending net to grab and hold me.)
And tonight violent water drizzles over my limped body;
incoherent shards slides over—kissing
my tattered paper skin—once again.
—Red river flows in the drain
along with everything.
*this red fencing is the only remedy
—a surgery I always need.*
Sep 5, 2012
Sep 5, 2012 at 12:27 PM UTC