Poetry Forum
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5/14/2019 2:05:53 PM
Morgan Gaston Posts: 1
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Patchwork fingertips
My finger tips are a patchwork quilt
my aniexty rips out the stiches
The same hands you once held
The same palms your so dearly caressed
They now shake and tremble
I scrape away my skin till it bleeds
I chisel my nails away to nothing
But this is better than releasing my veins
This is better than starving my frame
When I begin to notice the blue hue of my veins
Or perhaps the rough bark of an oak alone the road
Or even the height of a cliff
I bite my lips
I whittle away at my fingertips
I chant this mantra over and over in my head
"You will live through this"
"You will live through this"
And so I go pressing on through these "passing" moments
For "passing" moments they are so terribly constant
I can only hope that this patchwork quilt of a body will one day become a tapestry
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9/9/2019 9:19:37 PM
Jack Webster Posts: 255
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Really well done. Visceral. My fingertips actually ached and tingled. Rare I actually experience a palpable sensory detail from a poem. The title is flawless. The last two lines are ambiguous in a thought provoking way, so that is good.
You might do a companion poem called The Tapestry.
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