heartbreak
They can break your heart, but they can't break your soul; poetry about lost love that comforts and uplifts.
My Last Night
The moon leaned low on trembling skies, A silver hush in lullaby, The stars were scattered, dimmed and shy, As if they knew the end was nigh. My breath was slow, a whispered thread, Each moment spun from dreams I’d shed. The silence curled around my bed, A gentle weight, a word unsaid. I saw the faces I had known, Their voices drifted, soft in tone. Regret and joy, now overgrown— A garden wild, all seeds I'd sown. No fear remained, no need to fight, Just peace within the waning light. The world outside slipped out of sight. So passed, at last, my final night.
By Israr khanabout a year ago in Poets
Can "Just Right" Be Life's Sweet Spot?
The quote, All good things are not as good as just right, and I can strongly relate to this. Life is something that we tend to live in pursuit of perfection and to achieve the best in all things, but we tend to be focused on the small and natural moments of joy. I once worked day and night to achieve success in my career and reach exhaustion. I lost the opportunity to enjoy family life with my loved ones, although I experienced some success. I never knew what goodness was until I came to see the lost looks on the faces of my family as a result of my absence, and suddenly I knew that goodness was not about something out there that glorifies you, goodness is about something that fits and something that is warm and good when you are with your family.
By Emily Chan - Life and love sharingabout a year ago in Poets
“Ashes of Us”
“Ashes of Us” We used to speak in sunlight, Now silence fills the air— Your shadow sleeps beside me, But you’re no longer there. I trace your name in teardrops On windows blurred with rain, Each letter slowly fading, Like echoes carved in pain. The house still holds your laughter In corners choked with dust, While photographs remember What time betrayed as trust. Your sweater hangs forgotten, Still shaped the way you wore, But warmth has long since vanished— You’re not coming back anymore. I whisper to the silence, It never whispers back. Grief walks me like a phantom Down memory’s endless track. And though the world keeps turning, Mine stopped when you were gone— A song that ends too early, Yet plays forever on.
By Israr khanabout a year ago in Poets
