They can break your heart, but they can't break your soul; poetry about lost love that comforts and uplifts.
You've left me without warning. No note, no talk, no phone call. Not even a cowardly text or email, Which would have been much worse
By Lana V Lynx7 months ago in Poets
Here I am again, alone at home, Music playing, feeding my soul. Valentine’s Day returns once more. The stores are crowded with men
By Ina Zeneli7 months ago in Poets
Insomnia The clock ticks slow, the night stands still, My restless mind denies its will. Thoughts like whispers, soft but loud,
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 7 months ago in Poets
how do you feel..... when it started with a phone call the tone serious..... as you try and get through a busy day the words ....
By Kia T Cooper-Erbst7 months ago in Poets
As the sun begins to gently sink into the horizon, Valentine's day is coming to an end. I ease my weary body on the couch and wonder
By Margaret Brennan7 months ago in Poets
Shake Hands with a Snake Two men in suits, the deal is set, A handshake firm, no signs of regret. But one has a snake coiled around his wrist,
Inside, we died a long time ago. Not the kind of death that stops the pulse — but the kind that silences light. We learned to walk,
By LUNA EDITH7 months ago in Poets
Your leaving did not change the world dramatically. The sun still rises. The streets still fill with noise. People still laugh as if nothing has shifted.
By Jhon smith7 months ago in Poets
I am sad — but I am not angry with you. Sadness is not always rebellion; sometimes it is simply the shadow of love standing quietly behind hope.
By luna hart7 months ago in Poets
God's Unwanted God’s unwanted, you said over and over to me. Why? I came from a good family. I was good-looking, slim, always dressed nice.
Breaking the cycle honestly can't be that hard, can it? Parents tell us as kids that their family treated them like shit, As we get older, they go into more detail of how they were abused and neglected themselves.
By Jen Phillips7 months ago in Poets
It wasn't love, only a mirage trembling on the heated horizon of your hope. A cathedral of whispers built from borrowed tenderness,
By Nelo7 months ago in Poets
