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Literature Text
Once full of life and love, adorned with wings,
now a vast wasteland between my heart strings.
Widening as time ticks on,
cracked and dry, almost numb.
No longer carefree, void of how to feel,
in an abandoned desert, life has no appeal.
Under the surface it's still beating, somehow going on,
as predictable as the day begins with the rising of the sun.
The time ticks on, days become years,
no rains fall, just salty tears.
Only the heavens full of stars,
know the state of my broken heart.
Poetry by Suzanne Karbach Janunary 2015
now a vast wasteland between my heart strings.
Widening as time ticks on,
cracked and dry, almost numb.
No longer carefree, void of how to feel,
in an abandoned desert, life has no appeal.
Under the surface it's still beating, somehow going on,
as predictable as the day begins with the rising of the sun.
The time ticks on, days become years,
no rains fall, just salty tears.
Only the heavens full of stars,
know the state of my broken heart.
Poetry by Suzanne Karbach Janunary 2015
Literature
Silver Lining Symphony
Remember
how summer sings
quietly in your ears;
when your
stray heart
stutters
hold it and wait,
for your cold hands
are meant to hide
the fire within.
Listen,
every symphony,
every beautiful thing
is made
of pauses
and broken pieces;
diamonds do not reflect
the light
until they are cut.
Remember
how the sun filters
through cracked clouds
after a storm;
when the rain
gently kisses your palms,
forgive the scars
for what has been.
Listen
and always
remember,
far beyond this pain
there are
luminous adventures,
thriving,
in the wake
of your
resilience.
Literature
apostrophe
he pokes the glass i glued to my ribs
and asks me when i became so vindictive
towards myself. i show him the rope
i tied to my ankles about seventeen years ago,
only now it's not really a rope, more like
a tattered bit of skin that's raised its head
for the occasion,
and tell him it's been this way since i was born.
i cut my finger on his zipper, bend the skin back
so he can get a peek at the sandpaper chiseling
my bones into perfection. meanwhile,
his eyes drill holes into my marrow cavities,
notice the metal starting to rust and seep
into my bloodstream. he says,
i call bullshit-takes a knife and separates
the fat from my muscles, spo
Literature
heart of gold
Pure is your heart of gold.
Inside and out, it became bold
but remained calloused to the core.
I wish you'd suffer no more.
Beautiful eyes say you do.
Beautiful eyes say that's nothing new
for you, you tortured delicate.
In heaven, pain shall be celibate,
but this isn't heaven, it's hell.
You make the hurting ones well
by fertilizing crops in despair.
You suffocate by breathing in air
tainted with carbon dioxide,
left by those starting to die.
You're just a tree with dying roots,
which still stands and bears truth.
When darkness around me seethes,
you are the air I breathe.
Pure is your heart of gold.
Day by day it grows old.
Your heart of g
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