heartbreak
They can break your heart, but they can't break your soul; poetry about lost love that comforts and uplifts.
Glass Heart
I have a heart that's just broken glass. I try to glue it back together, but the glue never holds. My heart is cold to the touch,
Brenda DeherreraPublished 8 months ago in Poetsdormant love
before the darkness drops its drapes I pour out all your inner charm on my dining room table it is made of your soft, seemingly unmanly voice
Mescaline BrissetPublished 8 months ago in PoetsEchoes
Echoes upon wind Unbridled childish laughter Distant memories
Sian N. CluttonPublished 8 months ago in Poetsunspoken
you fanned the flames from one senseless spark everyone saw how these things were made in the worst possible shape
Mescaline BrissetPublished 8 months ago in PoetsHope
Hope internal is Hope denied Hope unsaid is Hope aside *** Hope-you-get is Hope as yet Hope-you-don't is Hope beset
Gerard DiLeoPublished 8 months ago in PoetsThe Shadow Home Show
Shadows dance cross blank canvas walls The freedom of the space a paradise contradiction To the cluttered floor bound to chaos
Oneg In The ArcticPublished 8 months ago in PoetsLove- Just a fake word!
Love, love, love Such a meaningful word A word depth with intense feelings. Before meeting you I felt love could lit any dull mood
Safira RodriguesPublished 8 months ago in PoetsDamages
Verse 1. Something in My head made a very poor calculation The day you appeared,I stopped being scared, as You were my Protection
Andrew LittlePublished 8 months ago in PoetsThe Loneliest Gallery
I look up at the white walls towering above, Like a warm blanket, I'm covered in the safety of my home, The grand gallery doors lay ajar with a cool breeze drifting out,
I don’t do us
falling in love must feel good But majority of the people who have been there Would not agree with that saying it’s better to have loved and lost
Aubrey jamesPublished 8 months ago in PoetsThe roots of my genes
Tell me you love me. Tell me you care. Tell me you’re proud of who I’ve become despite the scars you’ve once shamed. Tell me you never hated me.
Dex MolinaPublished 8 months ago in PoetsThe Fates of Plates
white paint on ceiling reaches down three plates on table look up to frown dark furniture stands tall to a child, what could be the draw?
Rowan FinleyPublished 8 months ago in Poets