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Mane Omsy Jan 2018
It is still poison
It hurts
Not just once
Forever
mitus Dec 2017
I’m glad I met you
I’m glad we split
I gave you a nickname and I called you boo
It was cute until that very day that you hit
Me.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,”
I cried
To myself
“This is the way it’s supposed to be.”
It was hard to see the light that day

I’m glad I met you
I’m glad we split
I no longer pick up your phone calls at two am
You sob and plead and beg me back
I disagree and do not crack

Here we are, once again
You show up at my door
And swear in vain
I slam the door
And your heart breaks
I don’t mind
For you hurt me
I wish for you to no longer plea
As I will press charges against thee

You come back
I stand away
You hold a rusty pipe found by the corner coming up the staircase
You strike me right in the face
You continue to beat me
With no remorse
I force
My way elsewhere from you maniac
You flee
I curl up in the closet near the pile of your *****, old shirts
I should’ve burned a long time ago
My neighbors find me
Soaked in dried, scarlet red, blood
They know no English
And scream in Spanish
“¡Juan, llama a la policía! Tenemos que ayudar a Missy a salir del armario.”
I feel her large body swish around paper towels and wet them with tap water
She returns back with aspirin and everything she could to
Help me?
“No no no no no NO. Quédate quieto, no retrocedes. La ambulancia estará aqui pronto.”
Frustration occurs.

You return
Couple weeks later,
See me in pain
I call you insane
You are documented
Not only am I fermented
But my wish came true
For you are an official abuser and violator.

For when I see my last true light
I will always finish this fight.
So I’m glad I met you
I’m glad we split
Next time bud,
Stick to the script.
ashley lingy Jan 2018
You tried to buy my love
All I wanted
Was a rushing river of affection
You, however, sprang a leak of trinkets and ****** movies
For years, I stayed
My heart never knew any different
Cracking everyday, bit by bit
Inevitably, the dam broke
We split

Years later
I found a man
Who offered me that rushing river
And lead me all the way to the ocean
We gaze at the horizon, my hand in his
Before this moment
I thought I was indelibly damaged
I look to this beautiful soul that found me
I let him sweep me away with the tide
dany Dec 2017
today is blue
today is orange
today is split
between now and yesterday

gray does not float in this sea
it does not breathe
with pants of flowers or trees

these shades bleed in their
monochromatic screams
with their iridescent dreams
they claw to their surfaces with
no hope, no leads
following their feet as they drag along
in their evergreens

the colors do not mix. the colors do not mourn.

my nasty beast will rear it's head but refuses treatment.

xoxo
Stella Matutina Dec 2017
There was a time where I relished his drunk touch.

The feeling on the dance floor,
Of his lips on mine,
His hands on my waist.

I felt power from his touch.
It affirmed what I wanted to feel-

I wanted to feel beautiful,
                            dangerous,
                             fierce.
I believed for a while that his drunk attention proved these things to be true.

Now I know differently.
Now that our drunk love has burned out,
I understand I am the only one who can make these things true.

I will no longer find power in drunk love.
I will find power in myself.
sweet ridicule Dec 2017
you don’t realize how much it hurts you when he
touches you for a moment and then begs for more
you say “no I don’t want to” and he pushes
(more) (more)
---says you are annoying and dramatic--
but you love him (so)
you grasp for straws you
gasp when he smiles and yet
your love is rotting and it is
filling your bones. All of the no no
I don’t want to” turns into
come back why are you leaving and then
you are clawing for air on the ground
calling your mom trying to tell her
how much you hurt without telling her why
because it might split her open
And that is the last thing you want to do.
Evie Richards Dec 2017
There are vines on my hands.
                                                          ­       -They're creeping up my spine-
They're twisted and they share wicked smiles
                                                      And­ their smiles aren't meant for me.
I wrap them around my fingers
                                                        ­Their darkness appealing as death,
With poison made of ink.
                                                         ~~~

I weave in flowers,
                                                        ­             They're painted all in black
In the hopes of distracting from how I'm trapped.
                                                        ­                      But I like it that way;
They're small and pathetic.
                                                       ­                     They're a mess like me.
                                                         ~~~

But it's not just the vines.
                                                          ­       There are eyes on my skin too
My hands are covered in everything I can't say.
                                                            ­       They watch my every move.
You just have to get close enough to look -
                                                                ­              - Watch out; they bite
They're hidden in the vines.

      The vines on my hands.                         *The vines on my hands.
Ginelle Nov 2017
in those late, fragile hours
on those dark, desolate nights
my soul seems to wander the earth
searching for a heart that matches mine

if soulmates do exist
then it is true that my soul was cut in two;
Plato was not fallacious when he said the soul splits in two

once you caressed my hand in yours,
and our fingers intertwined
i knew that this was forever,
that we were forever,
when i saw my life in your eyes
*based on Plato's theory of soulmates.
Marc Hawkins Oct 2017
Your softest nature elicits returns
With silver charms and gold tooth smiles,
And your love for fellow mankind burns,
Your existence free of turmoil and trials.
When people defend your ranks and reputes
And are willingly kind when speaking your name,
Your character fine in practice recruits
Alliances forged, animosities tamed.
No fist that is hidden within a velvet glove
Nor sleight or disdain so worthless and shotten,
And all is good and fair in love
And war is ever to be forgotten.

But see how soon your prized elation
Is made to fail and crash to Earth,
From super gliding elevation
To ditch go falling in scathing mirth.
And how you turn like the change of season,
You come, incognito, dark wings furled.
Tempestuous and wild without rhyme or reason,
Caught and lost between two worlds.
What difference in words of you now spoken
When you, your reputation embrown,
Your wings unfurled will soon be broken
And your saintly crown falls
Down
Down
Down
IPM Sep 2017
It's my pride
                        It's my cross
I hold to
                        to carry
it's my fruit
                          it's my loss
I see through
                                     to bury
with countless tries
                                     and, all-in-all
we fall to rise
                            we rise to fall
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