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Gabriel burnS Sep 2017
My broken lightbulb,
I have conserved your light
Unto my pages
Stop raining shards
You are weeping now
Inconsolably
Your crumbling body
Wasting further away
Unnecessarily
Beyond return
But you will find no solace
In my eyes
In my skin
Where you cut and you burn
For you’ve been but a shining
On my ceiling
That I’ve let too long replace the sun
Poetic T Sep 2017
The moments that
make us feel small.

                 Are the ones that
help us fit through the cracks..
Lyn Camm Aug 2017
I remember when hating everything was cool, but then all of a sudden it wasn't?
It's too late,
I'm filled with this hate, an anger you helped create.
It seeps from my pours,
It makes up my floors:
And I can't break its hold; the hands already closed.
The power I thought I had you took when you left;
It lied in my head.
Daisy Rae Jul 2017
your beauty lasted many years
newly set, your color shined
nothing made you hurt
you sure were tough
but over time that changed
we watched as you started to crack
we glued you when you needed it
but something was very wrong
you were falling apart
and pieces of you went missing
after awhile we forgot about you
and stopped watching out for cracks
present day and you're all scarred up
as i walked down to get the mail today
i noticed how bad you had gotten
cracks went all the way up and down your spine
your sides were shattered
you looked like you took yourself apart
and tried to glue yourself together again
i studied your scars and pieces
and wondered how we had forgotten
that you were hurting and breaking
i understood that you had went through a lot
as people came and went
you slowly lost your muster
but you weren't any less beautiful than before
you carried your scars like a champ
your dim color meant you had experience
i looked at you in a different light
your pieces were mosaics
and your color reminded me of thunderstorms
stormy, yet beautiful after it was over
this cracked pavement was overlooked
i now go get the mail more often
Haruharu Jun 2017
I left my heart of glass in your hands,
trusting you would keep it safe.

You dropped it on purpose.

I'm now picking up the broken pieces,
cutting myself on some.

The best memories have the sharpest edges.

But I'll glue it back into one piece
with my bruised hands.

The cracks will only show how much I once loved.
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