heartbreak
They can break your heart, but they can't break your soul; poetry about lost love that comforts and uplifts.
Respect vs. Deceptive Love
Love can be deceptive. Someone might treat you well—kiss you, buy you delicious food, give you expensive gifts. These seemingly good things might be love, or they might not. This person could be using you as a toy for entertainment, with their efforts simply the cost of their fun, a cost they're willing to bear. They might also view you as property, an extension of their "sense of ownership." In fact, you might just be a tool for them to escape boredom and distract themselves from life.
By Emily Chan - Life and love sharingabout a year ago in Poets
The Letter She Never Sent
She wrote the letter, each word heavy, carved from her soul, filled with hope and fear. Promises whispered softly, fears wrapped in silence, love caught in between the lines she never sent. The paper trembled beneath her shaking hands, but she never mailed it. She folded it tight, tucked it away deep, a message left unread, a secret never told. Her heart whispered, “Maybe someday...” but someday never came, lost to endless waiting. The letter sleeps still, in shadows and dust, a ghost of what could be, words that live only inside her heart. Sometimes she rereads it, feeling the ache of love and loss, the pain of silence, and tears for what never was.
By Hazrat Usman Usmanabout a year ago in Poets
Echoes of a Broken Promise
You promised forever gone. Forever slipped away. Like fading shadows. Shadows at dawn. The clock slows. Seconds feel heavy. Empty spaces remain. You’re not here. Walls whisper softly. Laughter now silent. Broken songs echo. Lost in night. I reach out. Ghost slips away. Vanished in darkness. Beyond my reach. Nights stretch endlessly. Dreams fall apart. Words left unspoken. Haunting my heart. Time moves forward. My heart freezes. Alone in silence. Promise finally broken. Memories cling tightly. Tears fall quietly. Hope fades slowly. Pain cuts deep. Love once bright. Now turned cold. Empty rooms echo. Lonely nights linger. Still I wait. Still I hope. Still I love. Still I ache.
By Hazrat Usman Usmanabout a year ago in Poets
The Boy Who Waited for the Moon
Every night, he climbed the hill. Not to wish. Not to cry. Just to wait. The moon, they said, had moved on. But he hadn’t. He carried an old coat, a quiet smile, and a name only he remembered. No one believed him that the sky once spoke, that stars used to listen. But he remembered her voice like music inside the silence. He waited. Not for magic but for the moment when memory outshines absence. And one night, the moon came back just a sliver, just a whisper. It didn’t say much. Just glowed the way her goodbye did. And that was enough to keep waiting.
By Hazrat Usman Usmanabout a year ago in Poets
