Like a knife carving deep into wood, you’ve created scars on my heart that may never heal. every sip of your precious Jack Daniels carved another wound in me.
I carve my mind for answers I carve the beast for lunch I carve the knife to prepare i just carve.. carving smiles into wood, carving stone to frown. I just carve
she carved her knife into his jagged broken heart as she told him for the first time that she was never going to fulfill his wish as far as she was concerned… having children and getting married in a white gown was not her idea of a perfect life and she wasn’t going to trade one minute of her pridefilled happieness for a smidgen of his so-called “perfect life” ideas. Her Alice in Wonderland sized door of a mind narrowed even farther and would not let him pass til he changed his.
this year i carve a pumpkin to look like it threw up on my steps. i think it’s clever until i see my neighbor did the same thing and now i feel dumb. maybe i’ll just carve a silly smile.
Carving into the cliffside, the oversized family found refuge from desert heat in the clay hue that matched their skin. A beautiful home in the mud a cool sanctuary to call home.
I carve best in the groove. Big wave, clean face. Or, running fast to get first touch on the ball and redirect to the open space. I don’t carve meat very well.
Ripping, shredding, tearing, pain. I try to stop it but it’s eating away at me and I’m getting worse and worse. I try to cover it up, but I can’t. It’s not enough to just wear the mask. I’ll fight this emptiness, but my only weapon is a blade. So I’ll carve myself up to remind me that I survived.
Carve my heart out. Jagged wounds in my blood spalshed chest. Have no mercy. If it’s going to hurt it might as well hurt like hell. My chest, carved like a pumpkin, my heart, forever yours.
Etched in the warm flesh of her thigh … that is where Rita knew she would carve his name … his poison would never be drunk nor his deathly love forgotten
trees
pumpkins
my heart
anything can be torn and ripped
i have found this out recently
why has the carving been turned into something painful and not as much fun?
carve it into your skin.
let it bleed,
because you know it’s what you need.
let the blade flirt with your arm,
until you’re sure of it.
steady your aim,
and let it all go.
let the pain go.
let the frustration go.
let the world go.
it’s not right.
it’s not healthy.
but it’s what you (think) you need.
so carve.
and see where it gets you in your life.
trust me – it’s nowhere.
you kiss away my sorrows with silent prayers & carve scriptures upon my womb.
i see heaven in your eyes & i believe God resides beneath your skin…the sun, the moon, and the brightest stars dwell within you…& you carry this world on your back while cradling humanity in the palm of your hand.
Carve. Carve your name into stone. Carve a statue. Sculpt it. You get a block of cement. You can leave it like that. Or you can carve it into something truly beautiful and awe inspiring. You choose what you want to bring into this world and leave here.
Carving my own destiny is the only path to greatness. Never will I allow others to chart a path for me. How fantastic it is to trust your gut, instinct, and preparation!
Carve out my heart and put it in a freezer, where its good and cold. But at least your saving it right? That’s gotta mean something. I don’t know anymore. I doubt everything. Fate. What the hell is fate. Is it real? Fate and faith.
The pumpkin sat in front of me. Its round, slightly damp surface banded and smooth, made me pause. Where was the right place to start carving? What should the face be? How would it look in the end?
carving is fun. i like to carve apples sometimes. as well as wood. applewood is a word too. you use that for bacon. i like bacon. unforutnately, you can’t carve bacon. maybe you can. but it’s not as fun.
you carve pumpkins and sometimes your face will have a smile carved into it. wood is a popular item to be carved, as well as jewelry and sculptures. art majors especially love to work with the a
He walked away. His words acted like a knife, carving away at my heart. He said it was for my own good. I hate my own good. It brings me nothing but trouble
I slip the knife into your skin, the juice flows out in a sweet escape.
I write curssed letters in your flesh.
I then move on gut you….
…….my little pumpkin.
I think of carving the turkey at Thanksgiving or carving my skis into the fresh powder on the slopes. I can hear that crunching sound for both, the browned skin of the turkey crunching as the serated edge of the knife slices through and the white layer of snow that crunches beneath both boot and ski.
I used to carve pumpkins. It seems like the kind of thing that would make for a fond childhood memory, but it never did. All I remember is that nasty gooeyness of pumpkin guts and mum taking the knives away because they are “too sharp.”
I finished carving my name in the tree that shot to the sky above where I laid her beautiful head. Her hair was still as crisp and sharp as it had ever been, save for the clotted blood that had gathered around the tips.
Like a knife carving deep into wood, you’ve created scars on my heart that may never heal. every sip of your precious Jack Daniels carved another wound in me.
as my life goes on i decide how i am going to carve my life and what is going to happen. :)
We’ll carve our marks into this world, carefully, diligently, and with vigor.
Stone begs to be turned into something, to have the shape inside carved free of the rest, the part of stone that is not.
I carve my mind for answers I carve the beast for lunch I carve the knife to prepare i just carve.. carving smiles into wood, carving stone to frown. I just carve
she carved her knife into his jagged broken heart as she told him for the first time that she was never going to fulfill his wish as far as she was concerned… having children and getting married in a white gown was not her idea of a perfect life and she wasn’t going to trade one minute of her pridefilled happieness for a smidgen of his so-called “perfect life” ideas. Her Alice in Wonderland sized door of a mind narrowed even farther and would not let him pass til he changed his.
this year i carve a pumpkin to look like it threw up on my steps. i think it’s clever until i see my neighbor did the same thing and now i feel dumb. maybe i’ll just carve a silly smile.
carve it baby, carve the snow, carve the turkey. carve it up!
Carving into the cliffside, the oversized family found refuge from desert heat in the clay hue that matched their skin. A beautiful home in the mud a cool sanctuary to call home.
I carve best in the groove. Big wave, clean face. Or, running fast to get first touch on the ball and redirect to the open space. I don’t carve meat very well.
Ripping, shredding, tearing, pain. I try to stop it but it’s eating away at me and I’m getting worse and worse. I try to cover it up, but I can’t. It’s not enough to just wear the mask. I’ll fight this emptiness, but my only weapon is a blade. So I’ll carve myself up to remind me that I survived.
And when his hands stop at my arm to nudge me for a walk, it’s almost as if his eyes are carving words on me, his fingers etching sorrows on my face.
idk wat to wirte cuz idk wat that is so thats wat i wrote cuz it says dont think so i just worte and look wat i did
He carved her breasts as if they were made out of wood. The slow motions of her thights made him shiver with overwelming joy.
Carve my heart out. Jagged wounds in my blood spalshed chest. Have no mercy. If it’s going to hurt it might as well hurt like hell. My chest, carved like a pumpkin, my heart, forever yours.
Etched in the warm flesh of her thigh … that is where Rita knew she would carve his name … his poison would never be drunk nor his deathly love forgotten
trees
pumpkins
my heart
anything can be torn and ripped
i have found this out recently
why has the carving been turned into something painful and not as much fun?
Carve out my soul, young man. Do your best, I know you can. Eat my insides, display my outsides and take advantage of what I used to call Trust.
In the kitchen carving a chicken breast, I noticed my son’s toy laying on the ground. I paused and sat aside my work.
He had been dead for six months.
carve it into your skin.
let it bleed,
because you know it’s what you need.
let the blade flirt with your arm,
until you’re sure of it.
steady your aim,
and let it all go.
let the pain go.
let the frustration go.
let the world go.
it’s not right.
it’s not healthy.
but it’s what you (think) you need.
so carve.
and see where it gets you in your life.
trust me – it’s nowhere.
I have carved the name of love into the waterways of my old home. Each fold of time speaks. Every cut is never ending.
you kiss away my sorrows with silent prayers & carve scriptures upon my womb.
i see heaven in your eyes & i believe God resides beneath your skin…the sun, the moon, and the brightest stars dwell within you…& you carry this world on your back while cradling humanity in the palm of your hand.
Carve. Carve your name into stone. Carve a statue. Sculpt it. You get a block of cement. You can leave it like that. Or you can carve it into something truly beautiful and awe inspiring. You choose what you want to bring into this world and leave here.
I would’ve let you mark me, let you scrape your name into my veins. I loved. I loved deeply.
Carving my own destiny is the only path to greatness. Never will I allow others to chart a path for me. How fantastic it is to trust your gut, instinct, and preparation!
Carve out my heart and put it in a freezer, where its good and cold. But at least your saving it right? That’s gotta mean something. I don’t know anymore. I doubt everything. Fate. What the hell is fate. Is it real? Fate and faith.
i remember jake carving his name into the tree that we crashed into last year the day cassie graduated. I didnt go back for 362 days.
Carving ornaments in my arm like one carves the flesh out of wood. I’m not usually this grotesque, in fact my mind likes to make it good.
The pumpkin sat in front of me. Its round, slightly damp surface banded and smooth, made me pause. Where was the right place to start carving? What should the face be? How would it look in the end?
carving is fun. i like to carve apples sometimes. as well as wood. applewood is a word too. you use that for bacon. i like bacon. unforutnately, you can’t carve bacon. maybe you can. but it’s not as fun.
you carve pumpkins and sometimes your face will have a smile carved into it. wood is a popular item to be carved, as well as jewelry and sculptures. art majors especially love to work with the a
carve something new
into your soul
He walked away. His words acted like a knife, carving away at my heart. He said it was for my own good. I hate my own good. It brings me nothing but trouble
it
all began
with a carving knife
I slip the knife into your skin, the juice flows out in a sweet escape.
I write curssed letters in your flesh.
I then move on gut you….
…….my little pumpkin.
I think of carving the turkey at Thanksgiving or carving my skis into the fresh powder on the slopes. I can hear that crunching sound for both, the browned skin of the turkey crunching as the serated edge of the knife slices through and the white layer of snow that crunches beneath both boot and ski.
I wish they would let me carve the christmas turkey.
I used to carve pumpkins. It seems like the kind of thing that would make for a fond childhood memory, but it never did. All I remember is that nasty gooeyness of pumpkin guts and mum taking the knives away because they are “too sharp.”
Carve out my brain, but i still think. Carve out my heart, but i still breathe. Carve out my soul, but i am still here.
I finished carving my name in the tree that shot to the sky above where I laid her beautiful head. Her hair was still as crisp and sharp as it had ever been, save for the clotted blood that had gathered around the tips.