They can break your heart, but they can't break your soul; poetry about lost love that comforts and uplifts.
You tell me I’m too sensitive. That I overreact. That I take things “the wrong way.” But somehow, when you explode, when you scream,
By Shai Andersonabout a year ago in Poets
There are nights that don’t make it to Instagram. Nights where the walls feel too tight, and your own skin feels foreign.
By Zanele Nyembeabout a year ago in Poets
Be prepared to walk slowly away from the group Ever so slowly away From those who never cared about you From those who you realize you’re better off without
By Pamela Dirrabout a year ago in Poets
The Wolves and the Flesh They came at dusk. Not running. Not howling. They just stepped from the trees, like they’d always been there.
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk about a year ago in Poets
Line: 01 Today again who's direction and call. I think karma is still laughing and ringing Is it okay for me to see my friend's denial?
By Salman Shahabout a year ago in Poets
Some days feel like your brain has packed its bags and gone on vacation without telling you. You wake up, and from that moment on, everything feels off. That is exactly the kind of day we are talking about here a comedy of small mistakes, forgotten chores, and snack cravings, all mixed together into one messy but very real experience.
By Shahzaibabout a year ago in Poets
Universal Message to us all Haiku You are killing me change your ways or the earth dies we all die change now
It’s strange how love can feel like truth—even when it’s built on lies. I remember the first time he kissed me. The world seemed to pause. The sky was a little too blue, the breeze a little too perfect, like the universe had staged everything for a moment we’d both remember. And I did remember it—for all the wrong reasons.
By Hamidabout a year ago in Poets
Beneath the sun’s first golden light, A rose begins her bloom, With petals soft as morning sighs And fragrance that consumes.
By Wow Geniusabout a year ago in Poets
Tap - Tap - Tap - Tap - Tap The herald of the morning breaks through the deep ink of needle pricked indigo, scented sharp, angular,
By Ellie Hoovsabout a year ago in Poets
I want a revolution that feels like spring an absolute rebirth transformation from death I crave a revolt that feels like raindrops
By Lolly Vieiraabout a year ago in Poets
I remember once, when I was seven, I came home early from school—around eleven. I thought my mother would be waiting: Game time and hot cocoa—how elating.
By Baby Josieabout a year ago in Poets
