Paperweight Poetry

These scars I wear are my stripes  These bullet holes, my stars  I gargle on my own blood So that you may gargle on your mouthwash  Complaining that it is overpriced and then slip quietly into bed While I slip quietly into death Never once thinking that this is overpriced Dying for you, because you are more than worth it But still I would like a little more when I march home Than a disgusted stare at my missing arm while I buy my mouthwash  For I didn't know that the bullets that my skin stretched across countries To block from ravaging you was only worth a fifteen percent military discount  I didn't know that all I would get on my door when I walked home from the airport alone  Would be an eviction notice instead of a banner screaming "welcome home" I didn't know it would be spit in the face by some and an aversion of eyes by the others When I took my shirt off at the gym revealing the Jackson Polluck painting of bullet holes on m

Let me kiss your bruised knees And you can kiss my wicked heart Because I didn't mean to make you fall Or push you down, or hit you,  Or slug you until blood ran like a labyrinth between splintered bones Yeah you know whatever you want to call it  And yes maybe it was more than your knees It was those clumsy hands of yours  And those dirt ugly ribs that jut out like you haven't eaten in days When God knows I haven't starved you for more than a day  And maybe I broke your pathetic teeth that never smile for me It's just you're too focused on yourself  You never want to do anything for others  So quit laying there all limp and your skin red and dripping with self pity  So get up damn it and kiss me.  -anna sluder

"What happened to the stars?" She whispered, into the stark ebony night "They fell down" he said "Into your hair, curled up in your chest, fizzled into your eyes, melted into your fingertips."  "Why?" she asked "Because light loves light"  -anna sluder