Poems from nadiahartvigsen

The Ironic Curse of Caring
The ironic curse of caring Withers at the bones of independence Which is worse: to care more or less? I cannot say for I am victim to both...
Seasons
Spring. My skin is soft and lonely And wants to feel yours Next to mine.    Summer. My hands quiver. Trace my spine  To reassure me we’...
I am so much skin
I am so much skin I am freckle, scar, and vein The bones tap like piano keys But the song should stay unsung   Shame, reverse time and...
Weak
My arms have gotten fat and weak My thighs are soft and plush The weight I gained is in my cheek My stomach feels like mush My former self...
It's Hard to Be Heard
It's hard to be heardWhen your wavering voice whispers  "I need to talk to someone." It's hard to be heard When that voice is ignored By...