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The salt running down your face shouldn’t be there. The warm then cold wetness shining your cheeks. The trail of liquid behind as you feel your heart break a little inside.
At some time in your life you will experience the type of love that will engrave its name on your skin similar to that of a tombstone engraved “ Rest In Peace”.
It is not just one, there are many, one for each you Wounds, Hurt One for each absence How much you? How much me? How much of us? How much time and absence on this goodbye?
Eyes open I can feel but not see, What is this pain overwhelming me? Am I alive, Can I breathe? You see not long ago it was you and me, You and I, He and she there- I was alive, I could breathe.
Dear You, This is my least favorite part of my day. I can never escape her eyes. And my body can never escape her judgments. "Bent, broken, barbed" That's all she seems to say as her nails
Cut me open like you do those scars on your wrists. You use to hate the sight of blood, But now the sting and crimson oozing from your wrist has become your favorite addiction.
A mother hatred for a child is like a gunshot to the heart. A father absence is like a never ending nightmare. A grandmother dying wish, is like having your soul be taking away from you from God himself
The leaf begins to fall and the blade becomes red. My heart dies for her. I see what could have been,
Healing the Heart By: Burgundee Pannell When I feel low Full of great sorrow and woe I am in need of music to flow Through my fretful body From my itty-bitty toes
The moonlight rays Slice through your window, Similar to the way The blade kissed Your skin only moments ago. You look out with Blurry vision and
There are people living in
Her floor is decorated with red polka dots. She adds more daily without a second thought. Her countless scars serve as ornaments for life.
We're all fucking alone and I hate being reminded of it. Leave me And then come back showing me pictures and videos of you without me. Leave me And then never reply to my
They only fester in the silence. Time is ticking. We should stop being quiet Because all they can do is fester in the silence. The longer they fester, the worse the pain. Time is ticking.
I was young, and DUMB.
My scars are hidden, Not self-inflicted Still they reflect, My anatomical neglect. See, I was born with a battle. And I've just got to deal, But your comments rattle
The Spectacles An Original Poem by Catelin Haight Through the spectacles of the soul
My heart was once so open So innocent and free I shared it with the world For the world enamored me
Blood, I have wounds only you can mend, only you my skin is rough but it can be cleansed, it can my arms are tough but they can be bent, they can and I want to fight
She was all yours. She was everything you wanted, Worth the world and more. She took care of you so well. Always waiting by the door. She was your number one fan, Begging for an encore.