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Literature Text
Stumbling in at 3 in the morning because you have been drinking the
pain away. . .
Doodling little broken, bleeding hearts all over your paper. . .
Getting nothing done because you have no desire to do anything. . .
Wondering how it would feel to jump off a cliff. . .
Catching that scent and missing it so much it makes you cry. . .
The way your heart feels like somone has stabbed it repeatedly. . .
The way you don't know if you can survive. . .
The way you feel like you have smashed into the ground. . .
Crying yourself to sleep at night because it hurts so bad. . .
pain away. . .
Doodling little broken, bleeding hearts all over your paper. . .
Getting nothing done because you have no desire to do anything. . .
Wondering how it would feel to jump off a cliff. . .
Catching that scent and missing it so much it makes you cry. . .
The way your heart feels like somone has stabbed it repeatedly. . .
The way you don't know if you can survive. . .
The way you feel like you have smashed into the ground. . .
Crying yourself to sleep at night because it hurts so bad. . .
Literature
Love and Heartbreak
Love is when you can't stop thinking about them,
when you hear their voice inside your head.
You can tell it's them just by their scent.
When you want a picture of just the two of you,
so they can always "be with you".
Love is when you call them
just to talk about anything; just to hear their voice.
When you worry about them if something happens,
when they cheer you up by giving you a hug
or just staying by your side.
Love is being able to read their eyes.
You can see when they're happy,
and help them when they're sad.
When you don't need to talk to each other,
because your eyes talk for the two of you.
Heartbreak is when you c
Literature
Sad Girl
You've pierced my heart and left me to die
I sit all alone and wonder why
It's hard to go on without a heart
It was your razorblade words that tore it apart
Scribbling down sentences to describe how I feel
Nothing I write can feel this real
The mirror reflects a pain that will never fade
I'm trapped in a mess that I've made
Duct taping broken pieces that fit into place
Mascara running down my face
At a frantic pace my fingers missed
A lose piece fell and slit my wrist
Just enough to see a peek of red
The way this night ended I'd rather be dead
Literature
No Pain
you see no mark upon my skin
you see no tear in my eye
you see no sign of pain
therefor I must not be in pain
I must not cry myself
to sleep at night
or wake up screaming
because of haunted dreams
I must not pull the blade
across my skin
and hope that one day
it drives in deeper
I must not fear the darkness
or shudder at the thought of silence
I must not hide myself from
life and prying eyes that
judge your worth as a person
upon the shine of your smile
you hear no gasp escape my mouth
you hear no horror tale from my past
you hear no words of pain
therefor I must not be in pain
I must not scream so loud it's silent
o
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Let me know what you think. If you get a chance read the partner poem "Love is. . ."
© 2006 - 2024 StormyGrey
Comments21
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I completely feel this way.
I wish that I can still have contact with my ex-boyfriend, because when we met he had scars from his wrists to his shoulders (he was suicidal, and he literally had 10 bottles of pills to help him with mood swings, etc.) and when we were in our relationship, he threw about three bottles of pills away because he said I helped him. He didn't cut, he smiled more, and his laugh came back all because I was with him, or so he said. But after we broke up, I saw him at the place where we met, and he had his jacket on. I didn't say hi, but we exchanged looks, and now it haunts me at night, wondering if he went back to being suicidal... and if it's my fault.
I wish that I can still have contact with my ex-boyfriend, because when we met he had scars from his wrists to his shoulders (he was suicidal, and he literally had 10 bottles of pills to help him with mood swings, etc.) and when we were in our relationship, he threw about three bottles of pills away because he said I helped him. He didn't cut, he smiled more, and his laugh came back all because I was with him, or so he said. But after we broke up, I saw him at the place where we met, and he had his jacket on. I didn't say hi, but we exchanged looks, and now it haunts me at night, wondering if he went back to being suicidal... and if it's my fault.