heartbreak
They can break your heart, but they can't break your soul; poetry about lost love that comforts and uplifts.
When We Spoke Again
I did not plan to hear your name again. I buried it in the soil of years, under promises, under dust, under lies I told myself to keep breathing. But fate has claws, and it dragged you back into my path. Your voice was a foreign language and still, my heart translated every syllable into pain. We spoke, but it wasn’t speaking. It was ghosts whispering through us, it was knives hidden in every word. Your laughter was sharper than grief, because it reminded me of what I lost. I tried to be strong, to let the silence carry me, but your eyes were a storm I couldn’t resist. I wanted to touch you, to tear you, to beg you, to curse you. Do you know what it feels like to stand in front of someone who once carried your soul and realize they are no longer yours? It is death. It is drowning while standing on land. It is fire without flame. We both pretended pretended the years were kind, pretended the distance was mercy, pretended our wounds were healed. But I saw it, in the twitch of your hands, in the tremble of your breath. The truth lived there. You remembered me, and you hated that you did. I hated it too. Because forgetting was survival, but remembering was still love. And so we stood there, two ruins, two graves, two broken promises wearing flesh, wondering if silence was safer than speaking again.
By Hazrat Usman Usmanabout a year ago in Poets
