They can break your heart, but they can't break your soul; poetry about lost love that comforts and uplifts.
In the early morn, a world of two, yet one, A married single mother, a journey just begun. With tiny hands that hold both hope and love,
By Nickiesha's Way3 years ago in Poets
he has slowly stopped coming around already a new bed he has already found again and again he puts me last he still keeps in touch with his “past”
By Kiesha’s Diary3 years ago in Poets
A sentiment is what's beholden, folded cards stuffed into a frame-broken. How insensitive could vanity grow when a stage hasn't set a show?
By OneWithPen3 years ago in Poets
It’s tough. No, it is not. Maybe it is. Sometimes I feel like writing but, should I? There are millions and millions of questions that I ask myself and, still, I cannot answer.
By Michi(ri)n-San3 years ago in Poets
I’m looking out the window of our apartment Wondering why all the things that make me cry start with you. It’s love always like this
By Aubrey james3 years ago in Poets
I am in love Allow me to demonstrate It is a love you can't just replicate How can I replicate this feeling with anyone else?
By Frankie Martinelli3 years ago in Poets
turn away bright eyes before I have to close mine to shut out the light stripping my masquerade . turn away bright eyes
By Kayleigh Fraser ✨3 years ago in Poets
Rainstorms linger here Missed twilight and something bright Inside my beer’s tear -------------------------------------------------------------------
By Gary Lougheed3 years ago in Poets
In the celestial dance, the Moon does play, A mystic partner to our Earth each day. Its origin, a riddle from afar, A tale of cosmic collisions, a guiding star.
By Mahzabien Fredous Maisha3 years ago in Poets
do you see the way the sky dances in my eyes * do you hear the sound of hope which rings in my voice * do you feel the pain in my bones
By Love, Nell3 years ago in Poets
Who speaks for the moon When the books are removed Who will whistle our tune Who will tell our tale when our tails are hidden
By Atomic Historian3 years ago in Poets
I want to be lame with you I want to hold your hand As we walk through the morning dew I want to just sit and do all the nothing
