Stitches on my wounds

I w r i t e because
I don’t know how to stitch.
There has to be something
that can keep my wounds
from ripping open, to keep
my heart and lungs from
flying right out of my chest
and being open for the
whole world to corrupt.
It doesn’t make the pain
go away, but it gives me
a reason to keep going.

*For #VibesOfJuly18 hosted by @enchanting_infinities.

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Time bomb

We realize that this strange
chemistry is a ticking time
bomb. Being with you is a
form of chosen helplessness,
to surrender my soul, caught in
the paradoxes of madness and
delight, unsure whether I would
stay, turn left or erupt. But
this is why we kiss anyway,
in spite of, because of,
and without regard to.

*Strange chemistry
For #brokenheartjuly18 hosted by @whispersofbrokenheart

Caught in paradoxes
For #VibesOfJuly18 hosted by @enchanting_infinities

Turn left
For #talknerdytomepoetry hosted by @gideon5897

Another take on Madness
For © Our Poetry Journey Contest

Buried

I know there are days when
you feel that the only things
holding yourself together are
duct tape and super glue and
old episodes of bad sitcoms.
It is okay to leave pieces of yourself
buried between the couch cushions.
They will still be there to dig out
and brush off and spit-shine
in a week, when you’re ready
to be put together and perfect.
It is okay to want to slip from your
skin and assess the shards inside.
It is okay to simply leave them be
for a while.

Red lipstick

Before we go out, I put on
red lipstick, not the dollar
store brand that comes off
easily, but my Chanel Rouge
lipstick in intense red.
So that as my lips trail
down your skin, it will
stain the kind of red you’re
craving. I’ll paint you with
50 shades of passion, make
you mine in every direction,
so that you don’t forget, that
I was the one who found
the spot that quenches
your every longing.

Cloaked in fancy paint

I asked the gorgeous girl
behind the counter at the mall
to give me a new face.

She did a lovely job masking the
flaws of my skin and drawing out
my features in pink and ivory gleam,
turning me into someone who turns
heads. But even she couldn’t blot and
blend the heartache from my face.

*#ivorygleam
For #artlixirpoetrychallenge hosted by @artlixirpoetry.