heartbreak
They can break your heart, but they can't break your soul; poetry about lost love that comforts and uplifts.
Undenied
Dear Lover, the one whom they said I could never have. Remember the passion that we made, that night under summer shade? Our fate we had tried to flee. And as we lay with bodies bare, our desire burned without a care, of what the world would say. But behind our backs was a murmuring sound, a gossip that tore throughout the town. They would never let us be. So what is it now, what reason have they found, to keep us apart?
By Rae Fairchild (MRB)4 years ago in Poets
I'm Talking Too You Both...
I'm Talking To You Both I waited and waited for you to be who I needed you to be and who I wanted to be with you.. until I couldn't wait anymore..so I set out to find a temporary replacement. Only I didn't realize the "world of dating" had changed so much. Unwilling, I fell (kinda hard) for a sweet sensual guy. His shit was far from together but, remember, it was a temporary fix.. all the stop signs were there, but I walked past them anyhow. Convincing myself with every step, they were only yield signs instead. Then we made love. Briefly because of course my life interrupted. You told me to call, you told me you couldn't wait to see me again. You told me I was the best and you had a "good time", but then you never spoke to me after. Never explained. Never responded. I'm crushed. Hurt. I even told you so.. nothing.. isn't it ironic? I strayed to find exactly what I was looking for.. never did I think it would break my heart when I found it..
By LiciaEmber4 years ago in Poets
a younger girl's bedroom window
One day this bright plain view from my bedroom window will leave me feeling incomplete. I will come to my parents house for the weekend, and that is how I'll refer to it, their house, not home, and I'll sit here. My feet will push on the windowsill and maybe then the windowsill will push back against this misshapen stranger. I will look out and for the first time realise that there are blank spaces between the houses, where I could have sworn there were trees I had once longed to climb but as I am documenting right now there are not. I will for the first time realise that the hill isn't very steep and I could have sworn it used to feel like a mountain but as I am documenting right now it has always been a gentle slope, coaxing me down on my scooter and then on my bike and then on my skateboard and finally in my car that does not care for it's mighty gradient. I could have sworn a thousand little differences but as I am documenting right now the house and the view will not be the things that change. I will perhaps for the first time notice how the compost bins look a bit like Daleks and I will congratulate myself on this nugget of childlike inspiration I have kept with me, forgetting that I noticed that same thing when I was 7 and childlike was my whole being. I will perhaps remember the parakeets that made their yearly migration back here, more loyal to this garden than me, who will likely live across the globe and return increasingly infrequently. I will perhaps fail to realise how their vibrant green has faded slightly since I was a child. I will feel dizzy and incomplete at the realisation that I am no longer a part of this place that is all too happy without me.
By Hannah Macdermott4 years ago in Poets
