heartbreak
They can break your heart, but they can't break your soul; poetry about lost love that comforts and uplifts.
Mom
4/20/20 the date Sad of course I did not cry tears spread to my cheeks February tears. Full blown sadness, in my head
expectations vs. reality
love. a word that produces nausea and nostalgia. there is no such thing. humans abuse this so-called emotion to fill a void.
Kassia RichPublished about 10 hours ago in Poets
Fool
Tired of feeling like a fool Waking up not next to you Thinking of you daily but doesn't feel the same Feels as though I'm being played
MICHELLE SMITHPublished a day ago in Poets
Dear Ocean: Air Pockets
Tell me I am not reaching out in vain Tell me there are air pockets somewhere Tell me there will be hands reaching out to me,
Michelle DubéPublished a day ago in Poets
My Country Is On Fire
I come from the land down under. We have koalas, kangaroos, crocodiles, the Sydney Harbour Bridge, Hugh Jackman and Men at Work. We are known for our laidback attitude, and are the first to say 'g'day' and to welcome you into our barbecues and parties. But now? I don't really know what to say.
Melody CampbellPublished 2 days ago in PoetsMy Heart...
It's been years since you've been gone And I can't stop myself from missing you When I know I should let you go Because it's already over
Isabella RenteriaPublished 2 days ago in PoetsCatastrophe
Shut up Listen to me You absolute catastrophe Right now I need you To leave Leave this house And leave this heart Leave the things that fell apart
Shallows past II
The boy grew up trying to be strong suffering alone on his own. He'd be sent into the yard to play and sometimes we'd be
Becoming Fearless
She won’t take it lightly that I am sharing everything she holds inside but now she has no choice. Never once has she ever been in control of the message, but unadulterated truth has been missing from this world for a long time. And though it may physically give pain to leave these things outside our body, she will feel free in the morning. I will feel the weight lifted. Tomorrow and the next day, just like most days that ended with a revelation.
Regrets Ache Like Illness
I lose a little sleep each night At first or in the morning hours Replaying the past in pictures In the frame of the present.
Object
I can barely even breath when he says to me Pretty thing, come over here I’ll give you love or sweets or beer. Pretty thing, travel far
Vanya VonnegutPublished 4 days ago in Poets
Gaslit on 7th St.
I awake in the A.M to a love quarrel out my window She cries his name over and over, my heart it hurts I can’t stand the blow.
aysha valenzuelaPublished 4 days ago in Poets
