Is Your Heart Bleeding?

There are scars

Some visible

Some hidden from the naked eye

Red welts across the skin

While others branded on the soul

The throbbing pain subsides

Replaced with a haunting ache

Like a phantasma

Of things that were

And then were gone again

Wounds heal

Bruises become memories

Scars are all that remain

Remnants of a wretched time

Stalwarts of cursed hours

Sometimes I find them redden once more

Not realising I’d been scratching at them in my sleep

In a vain attempt to obilerate them

I wonder if that’s why

I wake up sometimes

To find my heart bleeding


Blood into Ink Poetry Feature : Fault Lines- Varnika Jain

I’m on seventh heaven because another poem got published! Head on over to Blood Into Ink and show it some love. Also, check out other works on there too, they’re brave, undaunted, warrior voices of survival. Each and every one of them.

Blood Into Ink

Fault Lines 3

I wonder when I started to see

Myself as the faults that resided in me.

When did I start feeling I

Lived to be of use to you.

My thoughts, desires, habits and views

Were obliterated with every complaining venom you spewed.

Seconds, minutes, hours and days

I spent devising ways and means

To make you happy and to make you smile

While I kept coming apart at the seams.

I saw not what I wanted to see

I thought not what I wanted to think

I did not what I wanted to do.

And yet, it was to no avail

Since you were always ready to bail

One foot outside the door you’d kept

Just in case I faltered and proved to be inept.

I looked in the mirror and took me in

You couldn’t tell me apart from a storefront mannequin.

Yet, by the time you left I…

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Adam and Eve



And ravaged.

When she gathered enough courage

To tell someone about it

She was told to stay mum

To go on as if nothing happened.

To cover up.

To not incite.

To take caution.

To not invite.

Like she had asked for it.

Like her body,

Which she was born with,

And in which she had no say

Was, for all purposes, a crying shame.

They say, what’s in a name?

Well, Adam ate the apple too,

But it’s Eve who’s forever to blame.

Begin Again

Unfinished poems,

Unwritten words,

Unreconciled feelings,

Unhealing scars,

Unmended body,

And an

Unyeilding heart.

This is what you left me with,

This is what you left me as,

This is what’s left of me.

But I no longer need your permission,

Or your censor,

Your approval,

Or your rating.

You cannot make me submit

Any longer to your whims.

You cannot have me punished

For my perceived sins.

So I’ll begin again.

Finish all my poems,

Unleash my stifled words,

Cry out my feelings,

Salve my scars,

Cherish my body,

And gift my heart

To a man who’s worthy

Of my fresh start.