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Wounded Memories

~ Anonymous place to let spill my wounded memories

Wounded Memories

Category Archives: Poetry

Love – But It’s Not Enough

14 Sunday Dec 2014

Posted by woundedmemories in Poetry

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Tags

Loss, Love, Poetry

I loved her
Even when
She didn’t want
To be loved
And that was when
I realized
I loved her the most

But love
It isn’t always enough
This is not
Some fairytale
This is life
Ugly and twisted

And so I love
And it isn’t enough
So I’ll just break softly
Slowly
Till there’s nothing left
But even then
I’ll still love
Her

Let Our Demons Play

14 Sunday Dec 2014

Posted by woundedmemories in Poetry

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

dark, erotic, Poetry

My demons
Craving hers
Her demons
Craving mine

Blood and bruises
Dragons and snakes
A dark lust
Hungers to be sated

Her hair tangled
In my fist
Her throat gripped
Between my fingers

Showing her
All the ways
That she is mine

My skin
Beneath her nails
My flesh
Between her teeth

Showing me
All the ways
That I am hers

Let the rest
Of the world bleed
Tonight
Our demons feed

Nothing Comes Out

13 Saturday Dec 2014

Posted by woundedmemories in Dreams, Poetry

≈ 1 Comment

Scarlett dreams
Wake up
    screaming
But nothing comes out

Fists clenched
Jaws open
Air exploding
From my lungs

But no matter
How hard I try
Nothing comes out
Not a single sound

Trapped inside
A scream
That tastes
Like copper

Control

11 Thursday Dec 2014

Posted by woundedmemories in Poetry

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

Poetry

Sometimes it feels like
I have everything
Under control
All these moving pieces
Grasped firmly
In my hands

Other times it feels like
Things are violently
Out of control
All these moving pieces
Spinning wildly
Out of my grasp

Maybe control
Was always an illusion
And I never had any
To begin with
Maybe knowing
Everything is out of control
It’s the closest thing
To real control
That I’ve ever had

The part that scares me
Terrifies me even
Is that these two things
Often feel the same
These days
I can’t seem to be able
To tell the difference

Her Name

11 Thursday Dec 2014

Posted by woundedmemories in Poetry

≈ 4 Comments

Her name
Etched deeply
Inside my veins
Each beat
Of my heart
Says her name
Sometimes
In a soft whisper
Sometimes
In a deafening roar
Always
In a melody
I crave to hear

Her name
Trembles
From my lips
I whisper her name
Wondering
If she hears
I growl her name
Willing her to hear
Sometimes
It sounds like want
Sometimes
It sounds like desire
Always
With an urgency
Greater than need

Wake Me Up

10 Wednesday Dec 2014

Posted by woundedmemories in Poetry

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Tags

dark, Poetry

Wake up
Inside of me
My darker side
Filled with demons
And dragons

They hunger
And need to devour
The darker side
Inside of you

Clenched fists
Filled with hair
And flesh
Taking from you
What you need to give

But if you aren’t
Ready to feed
My demons and dragons
Then please
Just let them sleep

Crimson Tides

10 Wednesday Dec 2014

Posted by woundedmemories in Poetry

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

Poetry

I dreamt
Of crimson tides
Waves
Crashing over me
One after another

Bathed in red
Crushed
Under their weight

And I swear
I couldn’t tell
If it felt more like
Love
Or something closer
To hate

Emptiness Filling My Senses

10 Wednesday Dec 2014

Posted by woundedmemories in Poetry

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The taste
Of emptiness
On my tongue
And on my lips

The sound
Of emptiness
In my ears
And in my head

The sight
Of emptiness
In my present
And in my future

The feeling
Of emptiness
Across my skin
And everywhere within

The weight
Of emptiness
On my heart
And crushing my soul

I’ll Pretend

10 Wednesday Dec 2014

Posted by woundedmemories in Poetry

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Love, Poetry, Sorrow

I’ll pretend I don’t
But I do
I’ll pretend I don’t
But I always will

I’ll go on
As if everything
Is going ok
But it isn’t

I’ll smile a smile
That isn’t a smile
And laugh a laugh
That isn’t a laugh

I’ll pretend I don’t
But I do
I’ll pretend I don’t
But I always will

Love her
I do
And always will

But I’ll pretend
That I don’t
Because she needs me to

These Hands

09 Tuesday Dec 2014

Posted by woundedmemories in Poetry

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Tags

Anger, Love, Poetry

These hands
Have felt the soft warmth
Of love
Gentle and caressing

They have also felt
The sharp heat
Of rage
Hard and unforgiving

Both filled with a passion
Different but the same
And I don’t always know
Which I preferred the most

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