heartbreak
They can break your heart, but they can't break your soul; poetry about lost love that comforts and uplifts.
When Silence Spoke Louder
You didn’t say goodbye. You didn’t need to. The silence said it all. It came in waves not crashing, just slow and steady, until I drowned in the quiet. I searched for reasons in your pause. I searched for closure in your absence. But answers don’t echo in empty rooms. And I refused to beg for noise. I sat with your silence. I named it. Felt it. Feared it. Then wore it like a second skin. You left without slamming doors. But the sound of you never returning it still lives in my chest. Now I speak only when it matters. Because I learned some silences are louder than screams. And some people say everything by saying nothing.
By Hazrat Usman Usmanabout a year ago in Poets
The Weight I Carry Alone
I carry a weight no one sees. Not in my hands. Not on my back. But deep inside. It presses. Crushes. Silent. I smile to hide it. I laugh to forget it. But at night, when no one watches It’s there. Pulling. Tearing. A war I fight alone. No cheers. No witnesses. Just quiet pain. Sometimes I wonder if it would be easier to drop it. To let go. But I hold on. Because hope whispers there’s light ahead. And I’m still here still fighting this invisible fight.
By Hazrat Usman Usmanabout a year ago in Poets
The Smile I Borrow
They say I smile a lot. But no one asks why it never reaches my eyes. It’s not mine. It’s borrowed. Like clothes I never chose but wear anyway. It fits the world better than silence. So I wear it. Every morning. Pull it tight like armor. Paint it bright like it means something. But inside, I’m empty. Not broken just drained. Like I gave everything to everyone and kept nothing for myself. I laugh when they laugh. Not because I feel it but because I’m expected to. Happiness, for me, is theater. The audience claps. I bow. Then hide behind the curtain no one sees. Where I’m just me. And even that feels like too much. So I smile. Again. Because pretending hurts less than explaining. Because silence is safer than truth. Because if they knew how I really felt they might leave. And I don’t want to be alone. Even though I already am.
By Hazrat Usman Usmanabout a year ago in Poets
Where No One Knocks
I built a place where no one knocks. No doorbell. No footsteps. No voices that ask, “Are you okay?” It’s quiet but not peaceful. More like forgotten. I sit with my thoughts. Not because I want to but because they don’t leave. They circle like flies on a wound that never heals. I try to distract myself. Phone. Music. Noise. But silence always wins. People say “Come out.” But how do you leave a room that only exists inside you? A room with no map. A room made of secrets, shame, and stories I never told. So I stay. Not because it’s safe but because it’s known. And sometimes known pain hurts less than unknown light.
By Hazrat Usman Usmanabout a year ago in Poets
Letters I Never Sent
I wrote you a hundred times. Never sent a single one. My hands they trembled. Not from fear. From memory. I remember your voice. Not the words. The sound. Warm. Then gone. I should’ve said more. But silence always won. I swallowed everything. My dreams. My anger. My hope. My need. They sat in my chest rotting. growing roots. I wanted to say I missed you. I still do. But even that felt dangerous. What if you moved on? What if you forgot me? So I wrote instead. Not poems. Not art. Just pain shaped into sentences. You never saw them. I burned one. Tore one. Hid one under the bed. The rest they stayed in my head. You don’t know how many things I never said. How many times I imagined your reply. And how many nights I pretended you were reading. These letters they became me. Not communication. Confession. I never mailed them. Because they weren’t for you. They were for the version of me that needed you. And that version died waiting.
By Hazrat Usman Usmanabout a year ago in Poets
The Weight I Never Put Down
I woke up heavier than yesterday. Not in body. In soul. The mirror refused to lie. Tired eyes. Empty posture. Not from lack of sleep. From too much thinking. I carry things no one sees. Words never spoken. Moments I replay. Decisions I regret. And silence I pretend is peace. People say "Let it go." But how do you drop what lives inside you? These thoughts aren’t passengers. They own the driver's seat. And I I’m just along for the ride. Smiling. Functioning. But always aching. Every laugh has a shadow. Every quiet has a scream. No one asks the right questions. And maybe that’s a blessing. Because answers aren’t easy. They’re messy. And raw. They sound like "I’m not okay."
By Hazrat Usman Usmanabout a year ago in Poets
