They can break your heart, but they can't break your soul; poetry about lost love that comforts and uplifts.
The Fire We Walk Through We walked through burning seasons, Where nothing stayed the same, Where love felt sharp and heavy,
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 10 months ago in Poets
Your side of bed still holds a shape that clocks refuse to know, a shallow moon where gravity remembers how you go. The sheets have learned your silhouette, the dent your dreams once made—
By Milan Milic10 months ago in Poets
The Keepers of Small Things” I have learned that life is made of the quiet things we gather— moments that slip through the world
By Ishaq khan10 months ago in Poets
It was the morning that you left me Abandoned, alone, for dead That I realized I didn’t need you. — I said it abandoned, I said it alone
By Emma Mark10 months ago in Poets
I took on the role of protector When that was never my job I told myself I had to be there Like I was some sort of God —
We stitch raincoats for our secrets out of half-remembered nights, from shower curtains, childhood quilts, and hand-me-down goodbyes.
~ i swam the depths of amber glass oceans of desire pulling me under caressed by waves of whiskey and malt; i stroked your ego with my drunken mouth
By Heather Hubler10 months ago in Poets
I keep a ring of metal moons that never learned my sky, a jangle of old alphabets that no more doors reply. They’re fossils of before-times, love—of locks we used to share,
Some nights The body forgets it is a body. and remembers it is sky. All the dark patches, the places where the world landed too hard,
The Candle Flickered Love Died The candle burned low, dripping its light, holding the room in a fading glow. She watched the flame,
This is not a confession. It is a correction. This is not guilt. It’s grief metabolized into rhythm. I didn’t leave I was locked out.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 10 months ago in Poets
Rooms Without Voices Some rooms hold, the weight of absence, heavier than anything, I could ever carry alone. Chairs remain still,
