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He drank his business.
I left him
my poor housekeeping,
my scar of purple,
my purse—I promise—
and my house all night.
Gedichte zum Thema: scar
Gedichte zum Thema „scar“ auf Poets.by.
The Hollow (33)
elderly beech
bark gathered in folds as if
it doesn’t fit right
zigzag scar
in a hemlock trunk
its sealed lips
graceful
the arc of a tree’s
mid-life crisis
the vanishing distance
between their two positions
oakhemlock
Living in Analog
The cold is a mother
as generous as the space
between the stars. I gave her
my discontent & my distance:
all those older & more restless selves
who are still out there, moving away
at the speed of light.
I grinned for Polaroid & single-lens
reflex alike, but inside
I was wincing. Cold.
I learned how to knit
when I was seven: scarves
& sweaters, socks & gloves, maps
& pastures & that long deep lake
I later loved. By then I’d crossed
oceans, no mere mermaid;
A saviour
One, maybe two,
Hands moving themselves,
I'll do a few.
A crimson trail,
Of lines inflicted,
By my past.
A long sleeved jumper,
Averted eyes,
False smiles.
A mistake,
A forgotten memory,
Shouldn't roam.
I tell myself,
Repeatedly,
I'm just alone.
Don't talk,
Scared
Shaking uncontrollably,
Trembling in fear.
I inflict another,
Blinded by tears.
Please stop giving,
Useless advice.
Reasons to create,
More scars to hide.
Shivering and crying,
Suddenly I stop.
The world goes blurry,
Paralysed with shock.
Family members,
Gathered around.
Someone's coffin,
Lowered into the ground.
Just words
A shadow,
Embracing,
Mistakes.
A breeze,
Glancing,
A graze.
A drop,
Rivers,
Of tears.
A heart,
Memories,
Fears.
Just words,
Paper,
Threats.
Quiet,
Light
It floods a room,
Exposing lies.
It shows you that day has arrived.
It chases shadows,
It reveals dreams,
It shows you what darkness cannot see.
It pierces the clouds,
That cover us.
Burning all I have to trust.
Be gone, light,
From this dark heart.
I have too many hidden scars.
Don't show them,
What I have concealed.
For I will drown in my own tears.
I'M FINE
IM FINE
Im not fine. Please help me
IM JUST TIRED
I cant take this anymore
I ALREADY ATE
I starve myself
GO AWAY
show me you care enough to stay
IM JUST COLD
I dont want you to see my scars
IM BETTER, I PROMISE
Ive never been this bad
IM OKAY
I just want to die.
My Own Bully.
They warn us of bullies.
Saying never be one.
Don't hurt someone else.
For your own petty reasons.
But what about ourselves?
Why don’t they warn us,
warn us of the damage we can do.
The damage to ourselves.
Beating myself up over dumb things I do.
The scars are proof.
Of the bully inside.
Does she tell me the truth?
Am I really that fat?
Am I really that ugly?
Stop eating!
Stop feeling!
Scars
The scars cover my body
Not a single blank space left
They keep ripping themselves open
I scream for help
But no one else can see them
The half empty bottle of water sits just an inch away
No matter how far I reach, I am not close enough
My throat is starting to fall apart
The pieces lying scattered about me like I'm some sort of broken porcelain doll
I have tried my best here
But my best isn't good enough for you
You, who have taken things from me
You, who took the thoughts from my mind
And the words from my mouth
Now I find myself, dehydrated and bleeding, waiting for you
You took and yet I still expect you to give
Broken.
Broken girls,
Housed in a broken body
their pieces scattered, some buried, some floating in the middle of the ocean,
None of them are whole.
But you'll never see a single frown,
Long sleeved shirts cover up the scars,
bracelets hide the bandaids,
fear, a tightly knotted restraint on their lips, as good as any mouth guard,
Smiles on the outside,
bright, tinkling laughs,
hide the pain on the inside...
When school is over, and the last question answered with the last lie,
she walks to her favourite place;
Always secluded,
she sits on the grass, watches the leaves fall, and lets the tears drop too.
There is no specific reason for her tears, but that black hole in her body that she felt grow today
Sequins
red on gold under gold the red thread will tie in the sequin
the dress will transform from the funerary gown of soft cloth
metal pearl mother-of-pearl the peacock sequins emphasise
the scar : where it was cradled in soft cloth it shifts with light
it now shifts with light
a battle armour with shiny metal frilling
a mail-coat
an armoured dress
the metal frill catches and disperses light from
embonpoint to point of candlelight it is no dust
no accretion of dust occurs in the music of fabric
flame does not show yellow in blue blue glass
sequin it : it hides the wound
sequin it: with the red thread
sequin it : the loosed skein
tack it in stitch on stitch and