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M Joy Oct 2017
Polaroids do no justice

To the life I made for you

You signed your name in black

And let the film fade to blue

Like being front row to a tragedy

I can't look away but it hurts to see

These times are a memory I'd like to forget

But I can't wash away the bruises it left

I'll keep your smile by my side

And your voice in my mind

As my life flashes before my eyes

And we turn into a silver sky
Skylar Keith Oct 2017
Did you leave?
So far, yet so close
If I reach out, will my fingers touch empty air?

You've gone
Yet when I feel like this
I always think you are right by my side

Why must you haunt me like this?
I just want to move on
Yet images of you fill my mind

Sadness through your tears and cuts
I've seen them all and I want to reach out to you
Embrace you and never let go

When I close my eyes and curl up
I imagine you next to me
Holding me close while I cry

When you close your eyes and curl up
You imagine me right by your side
Holding you close while you cry

All your tears and cuts
All my tears and cuts
What are they for?

For what others say
What others do
All the bruises they've given you
I want to erase
I want to run my fingers over your skin and see you smile
I want to be there for you

When I reach out
What will my fingers touch?
Empty Air
You

Neither
All I feel is the cold and dead feeling
of a screen against my fingertips
As I cry out for you and I know you do the same

You're haunting me and I curl up
Imagining you to be there with me
While we cry

So close, yet so far
Only a border between us
The phone screen staying black
As you cry
As I cry

No bruises or cuts
No tears or screams
All I ever wanted was for you to smile
All I ever wanted was to see you smile
Star BG Sep 2017
Bruises come and hurt so deep,
stopping one to stand on feet.
But in time one can recall,
that we’re sacred to stand tall.

And the feet will bond with heart,
to take strides to make new start.
Cause the sun does rise each day,
for us all to bow and pray.

Pray to find an inner cord,
inside love it’s the reward.
So be doctor to oneself.
Heal with breath take an engulf.
inspired by h m w
White Owl Aug 2017
I remember locking myself in my room
COMMA
blasting the radio
COMMA
covering my head with a pillow
PERIOD
Even while I was doing that
COMMA
I could still hear my mother screaming at my father to stop
PERIOD
I heard glass breaking
COMMA
pans hitting the floor
COMMA
dishes crossing the floor
PERIOD


After the fights
comma
I would always come check on my mom
comma
sometimes she was covered in blood and bruises
period

As I looked across the floor as she was
cleaning the mess my father made comma
glass everywhere
period
Everything from counters and tables
were scattered from kitchen all the way to living room

Period.
avalon Aug 2017
this ,,hurricane in my chest cavity, it is TOO LARGE for me, i cannot cry this one away, i cannot choke down this cataclysm i was not built for devastation
     i only bruise my knuckles 'cause i cant contuse my mind,

                                                  lover mine.
emmie cosgrove Jul 2017
Sometimes I wish I could

Pull the child who lives inside of me

Out,

Dress her wounds

Kiss her bruises

And embrace her in my arms

So,

She knows that one day

She will be

Loved
Rebel Heart Jul 2017
We've been scorched and trialed
Scarred beyond recognition
Bruised beyond repair
But we've shed our skin to become
Masters of our own disguises...

Scars line our bodies
Intertwining like a mysterious vine
Lacing together in jagged harmony
Intricate like a hidden beauty within itself..

Some were received from battle
More received from the battle within
From the depths of the darkness
Haunting the forgotten graves
Lost in the whispering wind..

Our skin's a masterpiece
Covered in red, black, and blue
But is it the color of glory
Or of shame
Of fear
Of the silent shadows still living within us...

Are we truly soldiers
Or simply ones without a cause
Lost in the sounds of chaos
For eternity to endure...

Our scars tell our stories
But are they the ones being heard
Or are our silent screams
Lost in the unforgiving wind
In the depths of time itself?

Then truly,
   Do these scars,
       Our story
         Mean anything
              At all ....
At first I didn't understand this poem. Then I realized in the notes RH had written "I don't want to live forgotten". This was written, apparently, back in 2014. Anyway, I realized the soldiers represented everyone in the world who was fighting endlessly just to help leave their marks on this world and had been left forgotten by those who came after them. As a poet/writer we'll forever leave our marks on the world. We may even end up forgotten but our words will find a way to live on, our memory along with them. And someone like Rebel Heart should know its near impossible to forget someone as amazing as herself.... ~BM
Allyssa Jul 2017
I kept you around because you knew me,
You knew my story,
My background,
The trauma,
The meaning behind tired.
What I forgot was that I gave you that privilege,
The chance to stay even after the door had been locked,
The opportunity to hold me close when all you did was let me go and watch me come right back,
Like the bright red yo-yo you had when you were a kid.
I had forgotten I had given you a right to see me at my weakest,
Me.
I did that.
There was a time before you,
When I knew no such thing as a hand wrapped around my throat in your tight fist when fists were made for Rock-Paper-Scissors,
When scars were thrown across my body when I thought scars were from battle wounds earned by soldiers fighting for a country they loved,
There was a time when a man hitting a woman never crossed my mind,
That only happened in dramatic movies and horror films.
You,
You gave me a reason to open my eyes to see the world in a way that I thought I would never have to look in but I guess,
Thanks.
Thank you for the caution that I have adopted into my life,
Thank you for darkness I can hide myself in when I feel unsafe,
Thank you for the heartbreak,
For the chance to understand that pain exists in the world,
A world I never knew and would not have been able to survive in because I was too gentle.
I was delicate,
My skin only flushed when it reached embarrassment and not with shamefulness,
I was untouched in a way only God could understand but even now,
My faith shakes in the light that points into my face when I am being questioned by my alter ego.
Convincing myself,
Persuading,
It was what I had wanted, right?
Because how do you let someone stay after purple kisses are given to you by their fists,
How do you let someone climb into your body unwillingly if you were stripped numbly by their hands and you were too frozen to object.
You must have wanted it,
Right?
To the ex lover I will never run back to.
Nicole Dawn Jul 2017
Color blooms at your touch
Purples, blues, and greens

Rivers flow at your presence
And dry up at your voice

Red splashes across the artwork
That you create within your passion

You have strength in your arms
And thunder in your voice

(Is this how you see it?)
(Do you think this is beauty?)

Hiding in fear, as you come near
There is nothing beautiful about this
This is about abuse, sort of written from the position of the abuser? Idek sorry
Seema Jun 2017
Bruises on her face
Like steamy bubbling geysers
Burnt and disfigured
Now a surviving victim
Of brutal acid attack

  
©sim
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