"wrenchingly" poems
constant paranoia
sleepless nights
bustling hospital halls
trust me
this is nothing less than horrific
after attempting to end it all
"take me home"
i whisper to no one
through my silent tears
staying in a psych ward
for just one week
felt like several years
all i can do
is worry
about if anyone will care
i think they believe
that they would be better off
if i was no longer there
my week in the hospital
was heart-wrenchingly
bleak
everyone says
it made me stronger
but i feel immensely weak
Feb 4, 2018
Feb 4, 2018 at 9:30 PM UTC
The lily of life, full of humility and devotion - the beautiful kind
that everyone would choose to pick from the fields I think you'll find.
One who defied the definition of a heroic inspiration,
your talent outshone all others; you caused quite the sensation.
You tenaciously grasped onto your stem of life
with the insidious poison of demise within your cells rife,
your colours darkening and fading away,
and yet you remained God's most beautiful creation each and every day.
As your petals fluttered down, by your side was your wife
while you heart-wrenchingly closed the circle of your life.
Now, we all shall miss watching you bloom through the days
and we will remember you, forever and ALWAYS .
Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 1:51 PM UTC
What makes me horribly gut-wrenchingly sad,
is that at my weakest moments,
I didn’t even think I deserved my tears.
Like somehow,
in the grand scheme of things,
My pain isn’t validated.
Others have suffered worse,
Why should I think I deserve to cry?
What a low place to fall.
That even my agony was a Flaw.
Jan 26, 2017
Jan 26, 2017 at 3:43 PM UTC
the soldier knelt to fix his cap,
dug deep into trenches, he stopped.
amidst the shots, he reached for the map
if not in his pocket, it’s lost.
“it seems like we’ve been here for years”
the man beside him squawked.
*“an hour seems like many days,
because we’ve gotten so lost.”*
unsure of quite how to respond,
the soldier raised his brow
but as he was about to speak,
the man who’d spoken went down.
the soldier raised his head to see the great alsace-lorraine.
the war had raged for far too long, and so he contrived an escape.
he planned to sneak across the flank,
advance the trench on his own
but as he stood to make his break, his heart
sank quite gut-wrenchingly low.
he thought to himself in a humble tone,
“i can’t do this alone.”
although his intentions were clearly courageous,
his weakness truly had shown.
as lady luck would have her way,
the days kept withering by
as the soldier so fervent to capture this land
tried not to keep track of the time.
they advanced to the east, but to their dismay
the french would push them right back
and until a day they’d find a way,
the men had no way to attack.
a fateful storm rolled in one day,
a blanket of snow o’er the field
and the mood of both great war machines,
had slowly came to a yield.
the soldier, so tired of the weight of the war
climbed out, with a fire in his eye.
he raised his rifle high in the air
and cried “Deutschland über alles”
the soldier then fell onto his knees,
and raised his hands to the the sky
not seconds passed before the scream
as snow and french bullets did fly.
the soldier was struck right through his lung
and grasped his chest to breathe
but all could see his head was hung
as the soldier collapsed from his knees.
there was no escape, he said to himself
as the snow slowly blurred into light
and he passed away on the holy ground
and they never did win that fight.
Oct 5, 2012
Oct 5, 2012 at 4:02 PM UTC
All good things come to those who wait.
Maybe, finally,
I have waited long enough
for a chance to have,
for a chance to love.
For a chance to spread my affections
through the great expanse of your heart,
damaged through past afflictions
and bitter memories,
I can soothe.
For I seethe
much the same,
and there is no blame,
to be cast or recast through
the past,
it's a shame.
That one so heart-wrenchingly beautiful,
(but she can't see so)
can be so trodden upon not to
see.
Not to see that it is she
who wanders and floats through many
a dream,
within a dream,
and casts away the sub-standards
of basic human wants
into something of god-like taunts.
And the dreams I have are never-ending.
Not because they don't end,
(Oh, they do)
but because I refuse to let them.
Alas!
I cannot slumber for eternity,
I must wake.
I must face that which is an
inevitability in its own right.
The insatiable desire of the freedoms
that we must not retire,
no.
We must be free to wander forth,
into a darkness, away from the light,
then see a sad soul
and regain to...
fight?
To fight again and again and
again?!
Perhaps we should cease,
if only we could.
We continue all the same (in much the same),
knowing what is to come,
knowing what peers just around
the bend.
Knowing, yet hoping,
against all hope,
that all good things must
end.
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 11:27 PM UTC
dainty and fluorescent is the mask of humility
forthwith we proclaim allegiance and sanctity
we need not ask to deeply... it is so
the answer will disarm what we all know
whether high in proximity to those under
all fall victim to charade and blunder
spoken philosophies and capricious sighs
we tuck ourselves tightly to fashion our lies
evermore ever present in common place
covered and covert we try to save face
why not give it, let all go its way
and cleanse ourselves thoroughly without delay
is it more profound a performance endured
when spectators stand around totally immured
grace falls just short of mendacities door
but wrenchingly it gropes for more and more
it is our chance and all in your power
to drench yourself in a righteous shower
whether kindness, good deeds or getting it straight
fact is... that is what most people call great
Oct 5, 2016
Oct 5, 2016 at 10:57 AM UTC
I fill my soul, my heart, my head,
And then try, through my fingers,
To tame it, calm it, dilute it.
To take the raw and make it something less agonizing,
To hold, to clutch to myself, to weave into my skin,
I build a fire and hope it won’t burn all the way through me, and the floor as well.
There are the times when I revel in the glow.
And there are times when I consign myself to be nothing more than a pillar of ash,
Easily swept away by a passing brezze.
Yet to cease,
Is to unweave my core,
To let holes stretch,
Till I am more void then girl.
To never feel a blue so mesmerizing that its very existents taunts me to catch it on paper,
Never spend hours trapping butterfly wings on the tip of my pen.
Never see the subtle moments where life is gut wrenchingly, woefully, utterly, complete,
That fraction of a second where the sun breaks the clouds into a sea of many facetted pillars of amaranth , so tangible I second guess their existence, and turning back see that the sun has sunken beyond the horizon.
The instant where a man and his dog glance up in perfect unison, a single being with six legs, four eyes, and one heart.
A first flash of scarlet upon jade, the cherries hang ripe and inviting, tiny globes flashing from behind their leafy bower, as of yet untouched by bird or clumsy human hand.
And so I write.
Nov 26, 2011
Nov 26, 2011 at 2:35 AM UTC
I think i'm addicted
no, not to drugs
not to alcohol
but to pain
not physical pain but emotional
i go through periods of high happiness
when i'm here
i want to feel sad
all i want is to cry and feel something
when he broke my heart
i liked crying
i didn't like being sad
but i liked crying
i don't know why
but i love that feeling
so gut wrenchingly sad
that your heart aches so bad
i love it and hate it at the same time
i'm addicted and can't be treated
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 5:36 AM UTC
You know what is heart wrenchingly terrible?
Not the fact we don’t talk anymore
[Though I’ve gotten quite used to the silence]
Not the fact that your backseat will no longer look forward to my visits
[There’s nothing like skin against skin and fog against windows]
Not the fact that my sheets have slowly lost your scent
[I screamed at my mother for washing my sheets the Tuesday after you decided to leave]
Although all of those thoughts are horrible
The worst is
I’m forgetting the color of your eyes
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 12:37 AM UTC
I feel every beat and moment as pain
Heart-wrenchingly, beautiful, euphoric pain
The sorrow feels almost refreshing
My soul is swimming inside me
Simultaneously building up while breaking down
Slowly contracting
Slowly expanding
Light and deep motions all at once
Harmonious
Moving in melody and rhythm
Inside me continues to contract and expand
When I exhale
I exhale deeper
My physicality only mirrors my experiencing soul of pain inside
This is what pain feels like
It is by far the most raw of a feeling
Identifying it as a feeling seems disrespectful
It is much greater
It is an experience
A spiritual
Mental
Auric experience
While killing it heals
Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 11:08 AM UTC
I love how I can see things in your eyes
There's the obvious blues
The silvers
All churned together like ethereal ice cream
So heart wrenchingly bright
Vacuums of cool space that **** the air from my lungs
Shimmering like the Pacific
But there's other things too
When we stand underneath the tree outside my window
Strung with golden Christmas lights
Drops of buttery sunlight on this cold, white marble
They pool in your eyes
Gold and silver coins at the bottom of a fountain
Not a ***** tile fixture in the mall food court
But the geometric bursting pools of the Louvre in Paris
Blue and slick and fresh
I can see feelings
When I stroke your face with my fingertips
I see smiles in your eyes
They match the pink smile of your lips
But I like all three best together
The TriForce of cuteness
I can see love in your eyes
They don't need to be open
I kiss your forehead and feel the furrows of your shutting lids meet my lips
I pull away and whisper I love yous until
You're squinting so hard I worry
But I run my thumb along your wrinkles
And you soften like clay
And your eyes open up
And they **** the air from my lungs
And you kiss it back into me
Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 12:33 AM UTC
I live my life in troughs and peaks
I write 2 papers and shoot off 6 emails in a freshly cleaned room
I let the dishes sit for a week and can’t get up til after noon
My period used to be like this before I started the pill
Sporadic and long (or short) and inconvenient and gut-wrenchingly guilty
I think about my 3 papers due next week and how I want to sketch up my traumas
Instead I open a new document and type this
I procrastinate productively sometimes I guess
This is a trough
Nov 10, 2017
Nov 10, 2017 at 2:49 PM UTC
I have yet to find the kind of love that I’ve been searching for.
I’ve found someone who loved my sadness, someone who loved my bitchiness, and someone who loved my happiness…but I need to find someone who can love all of those things that compose me.
I need more than just one or the other.
I need full, accepting, gut-wrenchingly deep love,
that knocks me over and pounds me against the rocks like an ocean wave, before bringing me to rest on the soft, warm sand.
I need the kind of love that rages like a summer storm, with torrential rain, gutsy winds, and booming thunder, that ends in a rainbow.
I need the kind of love that takes my breath away.
But I don’t know if I’ll ever find it.
Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 1:43 PM UTC
Sometimes, you get so caught up in a moment that you convince yourself that your life is supposed to turn out a certain way. You believe that these moments will define the rest of your life. When in reality, they are not your fate and you forget that before them, you were surviving. Suddenly, you wake up. What woke you up? Usually something gut-wrenchingly heartbreaking or the loss of something that, honestly, wasn't as great as you thought it was in the first place. For me, it was both. I fell asleep for far too long and woke up on a gloomy Wednesday night feeling empty. The person I loved as a young 17 year old girl was slipping out of my reach and I needed to let them go. I just needed to let them go.
By Chloe Elizabeth
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 10:14 PM UTC
When I was young we ran together
faster than me but never
the less good fun
together
we
always together
and I would say this is forever you and me a team as
girl and dog should be
in rain sun moon and stars alike
together were we through hills and hikes
tired and hungry and happy
together
I remember the tears that
arrived at
the mere thought of
alone
I remember the knowing and
the waiting
but we were together you and me as
girl and dog should be
kept alive out of dumb love
flew from us at the first a
hand stroked multicolored fluff
and a long tongue lapped a cheek
eyes glassy and nose wet
at the thought of
together
a happy thought alone
but reality took
you away from me
and death did not come for me as it
should because hell
I was never really meant to be here in the first place
kept alive in the free flying years by
a bark and bated breath
the only thing in this world I
could never dream to live without
heart wrenchingly alone with nothing
as this nightmare passes in the
years and hours
no love anymore and nobody
I miss you
and there’s nobody who’d see as we
what girl and dog should be.
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 6:30 PM UTC
I will never get used to the way pettiness lives in the people I love, right along side their depth and beauty and tenderness. The people who write things that fill my heart up, whose thoughts glitter like ice in starlight, whose kindness cuts through the murk of everyday life like something divine... The same people... They are cruel. They are human. They are jealous, and insecure. They are defensive and rash. Those same exquisite, heart wrenchingly lovely people can be ugly, too- more ugly inside than others, just as they are more beautiful inside than others. Those same people can be... Tragically vicious.
I will never get used to it.
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 3:21 AM UTC
The bomb’s flash is blinding,
Brighter than any kind of lightning.
The enormity of the mushroom cloud is frightening;
A monstrosity both terrifying and grotesquely enlightening.
The eyelids instinctively board shut in fear;
Adrenal glands working overtime,
More in this moment than a whole year.
Yet, eyelids seem useless,
For the reality leaves one speechless.
In this moment, you will see an X-ray of your own vessels and bones.
It will feel like a ghastly omen, like the earth itself shakes and groans.
And then, the shockwave hits, gut-wrenchingly raw;
A fallout so powerful, it might break the bones you just saw.
A cataclysm of impossible energy, an apocalypse that ends in sheer awe.
The nuke –
Admired and feared from afar,
Trepidation come alive, a door to hell left ajar.
The symbol of being forever at war,
Apocalyptic nature in its demonic core.
Loved only by its makers,
Hated by most living on earth’s many acres,
Respected by all.
Sep 14, 2018
Sep 14, 2018 at 3:21 AM UTC
You didn't really leave when you died.
There's still that image of you in the back of my mind when I pass your favourite colour on the street.
There's still that uncomfortable silence after I say 'Hey' and I expect you to turn and ask 'what?' but it doesn't happen.
There's still the silence that creeps up against your parent's skin when they have to tell people they had a child and it takes a while for them to notice the past tense.
There's still an echo of your voice in my head where you you used to laugh about our inside jokes...but now they're just statements to me.
There's still that song you love and it still exists in your collection somewhere piled up in your wardrobe that is slowly fading away.
There's still that lingering memory of you when I pass by the place we met. Sometimes it's deliberate - other times, I pass by and break down in the corners of the street because I wasn't meant to see you there.
There's still that uncomfortable ache in my heart that you ripped out when I saw the yellowing of your papery skin in that decaying hospital bed.
There's still that one person who could've met you but instead will go on a lifetime meeting similar people but not quite the same as your wonderful and beautiful and heart wrenchingly perfect self.
There's still the first text you sent saved on my phone, and the fact that it will exist forever even if just in binary code drives me insane!
There's still the unfamiliar chill in your bedroom when I visit because the medication I've started taking since you left gets me a little more sentimental than normal but your parents still let me in to roam around because...they're just as numb as me.
There's still the family wondering forever if they could of done anything and the weight of their thoughts are heavier than the amount of earth we tilled to bury you.
There's still you in everything I do and I'll never get past it.
But, it's okay...
because soon, one friend, like I, will write a similar poem like this about me as I join you up in Heaven.
There's still the option to live, but I guess it left with you.
Dec 17, 2016
Dec 17, 2016 at 6:10 AM UTC
backwards progress
like the clock has lost
it's purpose &
decided to join the circus
**** it--
the effort has been perilous and i thought it would be alright just to hear your voice and feel your love and remember what we were working for but i'm stressed and nervous and what if i was wrong and we can't do this and it's just a solo road ahead until the landscape becomes smoother i just don't know--
i want to believe it's going to work out,
but i'm expending energy on it
that i don't have to expend worrying
when i dragged myself through
the grocery store after work and bought yarn,
the simplest of tasks
were the most soul-wrenchingly exhausting
& i want to go to bed--
is this what we need?
would you be better without me?
would i be better without you?
it hurts me to even ask
since i'd like to believe
i know what love feels like
but then maybe i'm not a good example--
there's this place
in my head far away,
my higher self lives there
in this magic forest,
Totoro and i could be kindred spirits
of thick, moist forest air
that rejuvenates the soul
just to smell the abundance,
the lust for everything & want for nothing--
i'd like to say things are getting easier
but i don't know much these days--
Aug 12, 2017
Aug 12, 2017 at 9:40 PM UTC
i broke my own heart just to see if it still works
it may be troubled but
its mostly torched
he said he'd burn his house down just to get me some warmth
he said he'd give me his heart
i asked "whats that worth?"
it all seems to have fallen again
i miss my home and i miss things ive never had
miss finding familiarity not so gut wrenchingly sad
how old do i have to get before i start to not feel so bad?
how long before my silence starts to feel less involuntary, before passion beats purpose
before i can love without excuses
before spiraling help a bit less
and when i agree before it depends
he said i love you so much but i cant deal with what youre going through
i said wow man, sorry i had to do that to you
next time you try to find something to hate me for
ill go head and let you ******* choose
Aug 19, 2017
Aug 19, 2017 at 2:18 PM UTC
It burns.
It burns as it rushes down my face;
And as it glides across my skin.
My pale, cold skin, that hasn’t seen the sun in months.
I’ve forgotten how it feels to have its warmth kiss my face,
It’s nearly identical in the ways I’ve forgotten you.
Oh, how it burns,
Warm and smooth in a cynically graceful approach.
Steaming with words I never said, never will say,
And still can’t, because it shakes my body so aggressively.
How it really, truly burns.
But don’t worry, it’s not painful.
Not in a knife cutting, sword stabbing, arm breaking kind of way.
Although I won’t deny it.
But rather, in a lustful, regretful, pitiful kind of way.
It’s the knowing that makes it hurt.
Knowing the reason why they fall,
Why they scorch trails of memories down my face.
Knowing the heart-wrenchingly obvious truth as to why they won’t stop.
And knowing that this could all be ended so easily,
Because, my old friend,
It’s you.
You are the reason.
And it burns even more forcefully
When I acknowledge that they fall down the same face,
And in the same place
I used to know your touch.
Feb 14, 2018
Feb 14, 2018 at 5:24 PM UTC
Well **** I put my heart on my sleeve again, Dumb!
I put my heart on my sleeve again;
I shouldn't have done that, I know what's to come.
Here's another heart ache on its way.
Here's another heart ache come out to play.
**** it what's wrong with my brain?
Why is that ******* thing so hard to train?
I know better, constant giving makes me insane!
I don't know what to do next.
My mind is so very vexed.
But for now I think I will just trust.
Because my heart says I must.
N if you smash it as I'm sure you will,
At least my notebook with poems I'll fill.
Words of beauty, love, and hurt.
Of this I can assert.
Because out of the worst pain I feel,
come words that are soul wrenchingly real!
Ones that reach down to your soul!
Ones that make a life changing toll!
So Imma sit back n see what I do now!
And acknowledge whats real n take my bow
...........
Nov 28, 2016
Nov 28, 2016 at 5:54 AM UTC
There is nothing beautiful about dying before your time,
or a mother’s wailing because no sewing kit will ever provide the means to stitch up her broken heart,
there is nothing glamorous about a body writhing in pain as it’s gripped by the symptoms of withdrawal,
and there is nothing alluring about local cemeteries packed with fresh headstones with dates going back less than three decades.
Death is not flowery and symbolic, it’s heart-wrenchingly permanent.
Feb 9, 2016
Feb 9, 2016 at 12:14 PM UTC
For let's be honest,
I am too close
and too far away from
the blueprint that you
wish for.
I know you
inside
and out
and so know that the boxes I tick
are not the bones you want to hold.
I know you to your soul and so know,
unfailingly
and heart wrenchingly
that I will
never
be the one who you will wake beside
and share that feeling,
that contact
when both people have woken but are yet
unwilling to speak.
Aug 25, 2015
Aug 25, 2015 at 5:51 PM UTC
your arms and legs kicked
your little heart was beating
on the ultrasound.
there was a lump in my throat.
i wanted to stay,
to lie in that cold, dark room
and watch you moving.
your dad has been excited
from the beginning
and i have been scared
my entire life
that i will mess this all up
and life will hurt you
the way it keeps hurting me.
but i will be brave
and do hard things to help you
because it's worth it—
and i hope you never know
how heart-wrenchingly,
how agonizingly far
i had to travel
to even begin to hope
that you could be mine
and that i could be your mom.
I hope you never wonder.
Apr 10, 2025
Apr 10, 2025 at 12:07 AM UTC