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Vexren4000 Aug 2018
A shard in my heart,
Shaped by things lost to time,
A sharp, jutting shard,
Made of frozen angel tears,
And came from shattered panes of dreams,
A shard,
Placed there long ago,
Still stabs the heart and soul,
Whenever my heart beats for anything.

how many times
have we about-faced
and walked away?

I mean,
here I am
pt. IV

because every time
I think it's the end

there he is

with something
to blow my mind
and leave my jaw
on the floor
Cameron Aug 9
Shattered like a china plate
Broken like a window pane
My heart's a million shards
Shards that won't be one again
ryn Jan 2015
if the universe flinched,
when God took you away.*
- dakota

Will I grace your thoughts when the moment comes?
Will your universe come to a complete standstill?
Will you choke back your tears...
Or by the buckets would they fill?

This pain in my heart
What is it?
I know now it's love
I know now I was bit...

I clutch my chest and begin to think...
Of the splintered shard I had failed to extract
I feel subdued and ultimately shattered
By the crushing bitter ripples of a broken pact

I'm hurting much
But strangely so...
I'm beginning to savour it
More than you know...
Line taken off dakota's 10w - "These words are not mine to keep" for Frank's "Let's Do A Line!" challenge.

Her quote caught my eye and heart the moment I read it and thought, "Wow... That's a great quote!"

It made me think and reflect on my place in the universe. Wondered if whatever I felt would send out ripples into the universe around me.

Thank you dakota for this inspiring this write...
Cindra Carr Nov 2011
The fatigue flows through me
As if it has invaded the marrow of my bones
Leaking out into the flesh
Rendering me paralyzed in an unfocused state
I sleep to live and wish only to end the dulled mind set
It’s crushing to find that shard of thought
Urging me to get up
Do not sleep, it whispers
There is too much to do, the insidious trails of ideas speak
The words taken down seek to undo the restlessness
The blurred vision of the time slipping past in red numbers
Sleep, my body cries
Wait a minute more, my mind calls back
Sleep deprived with burning eyes
A single tear breaks the tie
I cannot go on
Sleep calls me back
Pulling me down to the place I cannot ignore anymore
Sleep, my body whispers
Sleep, my mind sighs

Deborahlee Jan 3
drips of oil and water twisting
in the bubbling glass,
nickel spins in orange quarts
citrine gold and brass

copper caramel and platinum
shining tinted on mass
for crypts inside the cemetery
lawn covered by grass

on lot lined in green treetops
yellow meets blood red
marking glass panels stained
and then framed in lead

handmade by a glass cutter
as a salute for the dead
from the people still left living
-aches born with death fed
Michael Solc Jul 2014
I can feel
her absence,
like swallowing
a cold

The blade 
slices slowly,
with each
like copper. 

A cold
steel shard
that rests
my heart. 

But will it cut?
Can you still bleed?
Do you love?
L Thor Pedersen Sep 2018
Its odd, the facade.. that the'world in all it's awe
performs so worn from the applause relentlessly,
Nothing MUST be, we're born and formed to be flawed, created cracked and clawed from earthly debris
Just the beginning..
ryn Jan 2015
How much do you have to hate life,
to not be scared of death?
- ThePoet

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't
Because I really am afraid
But life has only sharp things
Wonder if death is willing to trade...

...a splinter
Embedded in the recesses of my core
Nestled deep, this tiny thorn
The source of my disconcerting sore

...a shard
That stabs itself deep
Extract it I will not
Think it's worth the keep

...a knife
With never a dull blade
Stabs itself right through
Pain that will never fade

...a syringe
Injecting the good and bad
Side effects loom
Driving me quite mad

...a stake
Rammed into my heart
It doubles me over
It rips me apart

...a spike
Impaling without fail
Siphoning my soul
Through the holes in my mail

These are the few sharp things that I own
The only things I've learnt to savour
I've nurtured them large; now fully grown
Always wondered what death has got to offer...
Line taken off ThePoet's "How?", for Frank Ruland's "I Love Doing Lines!" challenge.

This line left me speechless when I first read it. It boasts of so few words but bears so much weight. It's smart, thought provoking and amazingly deep.
I started toying with it and came up with a response.

I am a big fan of ThePoet. I find that her entries exhibit uncanny wisdom, well laid thoughts and they're incredibly captivating.
Here's to you, ThePoet...
Thank you for the inspiration!
Kai Mar 10
pale circle
     sunken eyes
          hallow cheeks

cracked hands
     bulging flesh
          spidery veins

hated image
     broken shard
          self reflection
I've been reading a lot of @poeticpoison's two word multi line poetry lately.
Arsène Aug 2018
At night I sleep alone
Mending heartache like stitches sewn

To no avail
As dreams of you prevail
My heart just couldn’t curtail
The ember  of your embrace
An ember that’s now displaced
Or one in which I’d misplaced

Will it ever be the same
As November came
And I was left in pain
Craving you again

Will I ever be the same
As December sang
And January rang
With A heart scarred
and left shard

Will we ever be the same
As February drained
And March rained  
For its we i wish to be

There is no we
she responded to me
A pierced heart has no cure
to bring your everything
into this charred coal vortex
whirring as we walk through

don't leave behind
one sliver of a shard oxidized
rusted wretches inclusive

bring it all
and toss it in

we'll corset fingers
as our debris mingles

we can't shake
these shambles

but we can
sling it into orbit
rearranging, alleviating
the weight

holding is so heavy

the shame
Osiria Melody Apr 13
His reflection burns, an image of self-loathing
Eyes ridden with insomnia and agonizing anxiety


Tears caress his face more kindly than his mother's embrace, ever so absent from his twenty-three years
She left him and his father when he was two, for his father was a very bad man, a very, very bad man he


He hates himself, anger sets his body afire with scars
Calloused hands strike the surface, cracking the glass into thunder storm shards, making his knuckles bleed rain of suffering


He looks just like his ghastly father, a living apparition
Eyes ridden with insomnia and agonizing anxiety

picks up glass

With a lethargic grip on a shard of isolated glass, he
He tries to, well, tries to do the worst that he can do to himself

The glass shard loses touch with his hand and strikes the longing ground, beetly crimson-stained canvas

Looking up with a startled glare, he saw within him a distorted image, for the mirror formed uneven, jealous patterns


He saw a boy in his reflection, a young lad that he was
That he was before everything in his life went downhill

A scenario played in my head. In this scenario, a young man recalls his troubled past and punches his mirror until his knuckles bleed. The mirror breaks and he tries to become more injured; he quickly changes his mind and doesn't do so.
frances Mar 2014
Set down your sword and feel
the breeze of finality
in the gaps
between your fingers
Don't let it take until your blood
is spilling like sand through an hourglass
to realise that war never had any
fill your lungs with red earth skies
and the way shadow weighs more than time
Take the shard of glass out of your pocket
Sooner or later you will learn
that firewood burns better than
the memories of that girl that you thought
you loved
Terrible things happen to those
who stare into flames for too long
Don't ever think that your mother
wouldn't cry over you
You are not as disposable
as those organs you mistreated
and filled with ashes
or those torn out pages
that you spilled your mindlessness onto
Remember the way that the earth shakes
but does not crumble beneath the weight
stop me if you've heard this one before
because the words wont cease
once I have begun
spit out your numbers and lay
down your weaponry
even if you were remembered for
your downfall
you wouldn't be around to feel the ache of pride
Appreciate the beauty of the temporary
Matt Shaw Aug 2016
i just gotta glitter up my ******* then im going to bed

you're insane and hilarious so I love it

doesnt everyone do that before they go to bed?
for the **** fairy?
thats what eminem's uncle told me to do.....

oh my god it's so funny
you crack me up dude

no someone pls put reid back together
we need to go to cape may tomorrow!!
ill take you to the beach reid : ' )
ill throw ur cracked up shard amongst the waves
but i shall save your sphincter, and wear it around my neck at all times

then you would dismantle me
you're hilarious af bro
you win
ELK Nov 2018
A fragile shell of what once was,
decimated beyond comprehension.
Shards of a old life slipping away,
into the silent empty space.

Memories of loved ones,
eluding desperate hands that reach and seek--
For what is buried beneath the dust.

Submerged in perpetual darkness,
the stars have lost their light,
the moon has lost its glow.
Every infinitesimal shard of your very essence,
is engulfed in the empty space.

The empty space that exists outside time,
and matter;
Hides in the desolate corners of your mind.

A invisible fog covers your soul,
stealing it away like a thief in the night.
And you are left unreachable,
a blank page in a book full of blotted ink.

The ones who loved you with every breath in their lungs,
surround and overwhelm with tear filled eyes.
Utterly helpless as you disappear.

Years pass,
Evaporate into the empty sky.
Dead to yourself.
Dead to the world.
Dead to the ones who loved you most.

And though your gone, an empty space lingers in your wake.

-Esther L. Krenzin-
For Grandpa, who was diagnosed with dementia when I was five. He has disappeared and I cannot see anything but a broken shell.
Elizz Oct 2018
Some say
That a picture is worth a thousand words
But what if each word
Was worth a thousand pictures?
That every single piece you write
Contains an amber memory
An emotion stained shard of glass
In the word "love"
An aching heart in the word restart
A laugh sown into the hollow of your smile
A desperate sense of awe and kindled fear
In the knowledge of what we write
Will out live us
That in a sense we artists
Who rip their chests open
Warranting our sorrows and joys onto the world
We bare our arms
We show our scars
Some of us to feel like we aren't alone
Others to be a light in someones darkest corner
A warm pulsating orb
To be here
To show
You aren't alone
That we're here
Bracing your heart against the hurricane

Some say that a picture is worth a thousand words
But what if each word
Is worth a thousand pictures?
Mystifying Chaos Nov 2016
I was miserable when you left.
I cried for hours and days.
But now what I feel is undoubtedly the most contradictory emotion I've ever felt,
I don't think I'll ever forget you.
You were my enchanting fantasy which abruptly ended on a sad note.
You were my first mesmerizing emotion of utter utopian devotion.
You were the drop of Jupiter that dripped upon my hair and left me wild.
You were the fire of the purest passion that burned me alive.
You invoked the deepest desires from the darkest corners of my mind.
You loved me when I considered the meaning of love as a waste of time.
You left me as if I was a pariah on the pedestal of a sacred shrine.
You disappeared like Houdini as soon as the lamp lost its light.
You abandoned me and vanished like a phantom, right out of my sight.
You were the myriad of perfection that seemed so lovely to be deceptive.
But when you left, it felt like a shard of glass ripping through my heart.
It hurt, and I screamed the most melancholic sound.
My devotion turned toxic and it spilled like acid on the ground.
Smoldered the memories of the best times and charred the symphony that my soul sang out.
So what I'm trying to say is that I don't think I'll ever forget you. Neither will I ever forgive you.
I'll think about you for the rest of my life. Till the day, the sky falls down and engulfs us in its light.
ryn Aug 2014
Many a time I've thought long and hard
Long have I picked at this stabbing splintered shard
Is He here or is He just an idea that's been long embedded
If He's here, then why do my eyes they both seem covered

Many a time I've questioned why I don't want to see
Because I really feel like it's only happening to me
I've pondered and tried to view for many different lenses
I've wondered aplenty why I haven't come to my senses

Many a time I've reassured myself with the following
That He does not give when you know you're not deserving
Challenges for you He does not wilfully make
Only those which He knows you definitely can take

Many a time that I've asked if I really do believe
When my discontentment triumphs and over it I grieve
I know that if in my heart I want Him found
It's time that I finally pulled my head out of the ground
Ek Aug 2018
I heard a man today claim
that life is like bubbles caught in the rain
any day now ours will fade
and leave behind whatever remains

It rained in Toronto today
rained on pavement and on road
rained on garbage and on stone
rained on children and of old

Umbrella's of yellow and green
shelter the schools from hurricanes obscene
a little tear from sharpened sleeve
will open up a wound to heal

Stacked on boxes of holes inside holes
an echo chamber with no place to go
cast away boat alone on the shore
will open up all new kinds of pores

And when it rains, it rains hard
all the umbrella's been scared by a shard
the boxes are all now to discard
if only there were a bubble like heart
The rain has plenty of mercy
it washes mud away from the cold

The rain has plenty of mercy
it reveals the garbage painted in gold
Willow Jul 2018
the word came out of your mouth
as sharp as a blade
easy for you to say
but hard for me to swallow

as easy for you to say
as it was for the three letters to  
gut me from the inside


i have come to hold animosity toward
the one syllable word.

my chest bursts open like
a black hole
******* every last bit of my happiness
gone into the never ending vastness
of darkness

i felt my lungs

but almost as if the word itself
had frozen my breath
as it left your lips

and with it went
my windpipe and lungs

you looked at me with those
crystal blue eyes
and my insides imploded, sending
each shard of ice
to poke and **** at my heart
just like


Rama Krsna Jun 24
for her
t’was garbage
fractured glass
on its way to trash.....
to him
each shard
a fragment of a busted heart
in need of resuscitation

remnants of a failed love

© 2019
based on a true story
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