They can break your heart, but they can't break your soul; poetry about lost love that comforts and uplifts.
suffocating on what used to be love turned inside out, it's poison in my blood you're half of the whole, of all my bad parts
By Aathavi Thanges3 years ago in Poets
mistaken for the weak, desperation only calls on those who can't see, drifted by the breeze, who they really are lives deep beneath the trees,
we were the pieces that fitted together, but belonged to different puzzles an endless list i could write of our troubles and the amount of people who had asked…
By Kiesha’s Diary3 years ago in Poets
i have kissed one too many frogs with the hope to find my prince starting to believe that it is just a myth does a fairytale love even exist?
I hollowed out my happiness for you and fed it to you on a silver spoon. I carved out my smile and sewed it to your face. I bled out all my healing and injected it into you, watching as it emptied from the intravenous drip like oxygen leaving a pair of lungs.
By Poppy 3 years ago in Poets
die slowly who does not travel Who doesn't read Who does not listen to music, Who does not find grace in himself die slowly
By MecAsaf3 years ago in Poets
I have already forgiven almost unforgivable mistakes, I tried to replace irreplaceable people and forget unforgettable people.
Life is the duty we brought home to do. When you see it, it's already six o'clock! When you see it, it's already Friday! When you see it, it's already Christmas...
Definitive, like everything that is simple. Our pain does not come from the things lived, but of the things that were dreamed
“If I could live my life again, next time I would try to make more mistakes. I wouldn't try to be so perfect, In fact, very few things I would take seriously.
My father and mother believed that a good gift for a child was a book. My colleagues from Grupo Escolar – that's what the primary school of my time was called – didn't think so. What they liked was a cart, a wind-up doll, a bicycle, games, soccer balls.
Once upon a time there was a knee called Juvenal. Juvenal had a problem, poor guy: he appeared all scratched up. Also who ordered Juvenal to be the knee of a naughty boy?
