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Posts tagged ‘bottled up emotions’

inner collision

crumpled at day’s end.
i sit down to dinner –
bones stacking up into
a neat pile of sticks within
i could spin webs
around all of the
misfortunes sticking
out – thorns in the side of
my day, i could pin up
words people have said –
turn them, overanalyze them
every which way, to avoid
and assume, every breath or
action was carefully woven
by a loom to create the finished
product – constructed to
haunt my mind – with anxiety
calling shot gun, leaving
peace behind

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written by Tiny Fawns for daily prompt: disastrous 

my last

box me up in
your finest oakwood
lock the latch so
the things that should
stay unbothered will sink
from my bones into the
soil, during the next
rain, they’ll grow and
haunt the stones, rivers
mountains and lakes with
the echoes of words you
won’t ever get to take
from me, even after
i’m gone – i’d rather
be the hum on
another ghost’s tongue
than be, some song
you once would have
sung indifferently

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written by Tiny Fawns for daily prompt: soil

my sparrow

arrows, hatchets
bullets, lead –
you aimed
your anger
at the sparrows
in my head –
my thoughts
always took
flight over
you, but i guess
the same just
isn’t true
for you

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written by Tiny Fawns for daily prompt: bury

stares and glances

i collect stares and
glances in my head
i use them as threads
tying up my thoughts
with extreme care
i’m carefully aware
of what you mean
when you glance here –
or over there –
and i know that
one look, the one
where your eyes tear
straight through
another and right
back into your own
head – you’re calculating your
worth against all the stares
and glances i’ve given,
instead of saying
what’s in my head

compartmentalizing;

laundry
fold it up
stack it in
dressers and
closets, we are told
do your laundry!
as a chore
my heart and head
feel sore from all
the starched thoughts
hung up on hangers

___
written by Tiny Fawns for daily prompt: meddle

bruising

do you use a measuring tape?
do you wrap one around the necks
of past mistakes to calculate
how much of a diameter they have
to breathe in – or do you let them
spill over and out into your mind,
thought word vomit
filling up your head until
it spins atop all of those bruises
still healing within your skin
and bones – every time you
press against them – do you ever
force yourself to swallow them
back down, to pretend they’re
long gone?

grey

we see the same sky
but not the same clouds of rain
we both share our love
but don’t feel it the same