heartbreak
They can break your heart, but they can't break your soul; poetry about lost love that comforts and uplifts.
Is Every Goodbye a New Hello?
I've always believed that the beginning and end of a relationship between people should be marked by a ceremony—a romantic start when falling in love, and a proper farewell when breaking up. Later, I discovered that most relationships between people begin inexplicably and end without any warning.
By Emily Chan - Life and love sharingabout a year ago in Poets
When Life Blocks Your Words, Punch Back with Poetry
Have you ever felt like life just steals your creativity? That’s been me lately. Bills stacking up, endless work calls, family stuff, and somehow, my brain just… shuts down. The words I used to love pouring out now feel stuck, like they’re trapped behind an invisible wall.
By Shafi Ullah Darweshabout a year ago in Poets
Attempted Illumination
You reached the horizon in time. I'm still a millisecond behind but it's enough to make it last place. I'm always playing catch up and this game is wearing me down. I'm already running out of oxygen and you're well aware. You can't bother turning around and making sure I'm doing all right. All that matters is you. My lungs are heaving and I'm trying not to convulse too heavily. My breath is caught in my throat but you never noticed. Please don't leave here. I can't beg with my words because they will go unheard like always. I can see the rejuvenating sunlight reach the edge of the surface but I can't seem to reach it. I try to grasp the string of enlightenment but it always runs ahead of me. I can't escape the feeling of drowning nor can I flee from this desertion. You could never muster the strength to include me in your own arrogance. You created an egocentric universe with me worshiping you from my orbit. So close but always so far away. You've reached the finish line and have already celebrated your glory. I watch my attempt at failed illumination come to light. But my mind is suddenly now clear. The tension ruptures as you break free. This is a scene on replay. Over and over again, you continued to choose yourself. You've shed the anchor holding you down like I'm a weight forcing you to hold on. I can't hold on anymore. Please turn around and wait for me. My suffering has got to mean something after all this time. After all of this neglect, you left me stranded again once more. I've been jettisoned. I've been marooned while you enjoy the spoils of your feast. If this scenic ocean had a drain, you would have left me spiraling out of submission. The water is still. I am floating even though I am dying. I can't beg you to notice me anymore. The shallow waves match your insincerity. I have wasted precious time on you, hoping you would relieve me of this pain. Now the pain is subsiding. I am content in this mesmerizing abyss. The sea water is silent but my heartbeat is deafening. My pulse is weakening. I can't force you to care after all this time. You've reached the horizon and I won't be there to applaud you for it. I'm in second place but we both know it's always last. I can't beg you to turn around anymore. It all makes sense now. You will always delight in watching me drown
By Anna Torresabout a year ago in Poets
Poems from My Broken Mirror
“Poems from My Broken Mirror” → A poetry series that captures vulnerability and self-reflection. I. The Shatter Once, I stood whole in morning light, A frame of flesh, a soul held tight. The mirror smiled, a faithful friend, Reflecting truths I used to defend. But time, it crept on silent feet, And fed me lies both sharp and sweet. A whisper here, a shadow there— I cracked beneath the weight of care. One careless breath, one trembling hand, And shattered went what couldn’t stand. A thousand shards upon the floor, A self I couldn’t find no more. --- II. The Edge of Glass I kneel among the glittered pain, And see my eyes in fractured rain. Each sliver hums a silent song, Of all I did, of all went wrong. One shard reflects a younger face— Too eager, lost in love’s embrace. Another shows a colder stare, The one who learned that life’s unfair. I bleed on every piece I touch, The cost of seeing is too much. Yet still I gather, bit by bit, For even pain holds truths well lit. --- III. Conversations with Cracks I speak to ghosts inside the glass, They answer back, they do not pass. They are the “should’ve,” “could’ve” cries, They are the self I compromised. One says, “You loved, but lost your name.” Another hisses, “You chased fame.” One weeps, “You never said goodbye,” And one just watches as I cry. Each voice a wound that never mends, Each shard a truth that twists, pretends. Yet in their sharp and honest gaze, I find my darkest, truest ways. --- IV. The Mirror Remembers My mirror does not flatter now, It shows me what I can’t allow. The parts I hid, the masks I wore, The lies I fed to want for more. It shows the nights I cursed the moon, And wished my end would come too soon. It plays the reel of silent screams, Of broken hopes and broken dreams. It holds no shame, it holds no grace, Just bitter truth and every trace. But oh, the freedom in the view— To see myself, not just what's true. --- V. Fragments of Becoming Not all who break are meant to die, Some scatter just so they can try— To build anew, with trembling hands, A self that even pain withstands. I stitch my soul with golden seams, And speak again to haunted dreams. They nod and vanish in the light, Like stars that only glow at night. I leave some pieces on the floor, For not all truths deserve restore. But those I lift, I place with care, And shape a self that’s raw and rare. --- VI. The Mirror Inside Me There comes a time you understand, The mirror’s not held in your hand. It lives within, behind your gaze, It breaks and builds through all your days. So now I look with softer eyes, Through years of pain, through countless tries. I see a heart that still can beat, Though scarred and tired, it won’t retreat. This mirror speaks in gentler tones, It weeps with me, it laughs alone. Together, we reflect and grow, And learn the beauty in the woe. --- VII. A New Reflection In shattered glass, I found my face, Not just the grief, but also grace. For every wound that left a mark, Also revealed a vital spark. I’ve stitched my pieces, not too clean— The cracks still show where I have been. But they don’t weaken what I see— They make the portrait truly me. So when you ask if I am whole, I’ll say I am—my fractured soul Has built a light from broken days, A mirror made of burning blaze. --- VIII. The Final Pane This poem ends, but not the song, The mirror hums its truth lifelong. And every time I feel the ache, I write again what shadows make. These poems born from pain and dust, Are not just scars—they are my trust. For in my shards, I found the key: To love the broken parts of me. So take these verses, hold them near— They come from loss, but ring sincere. And if you see yourself in mine, Know cracked reflections still can shine.
By ANAS AFRIDIabout a year ago in Poets
Strength is Built in Silence. Content Warning.
Strength is not the roar of triumph, nor the thunder of applause. It is the quiet rising after the fall, the steady breath taken when no one is watching. It grows in the hush of midnight doubts, in the patient stitching of wounds only you can see. It is forged in unseen hours where fear whispers loudest, and you whisper back: I am not done. Strength hides in silent choices — to stand when the heart is tired, to forgive what broke you, to keep going when each step feels like lifting a mountain. It does not seek the spotlight, nor does it crave the crown. It finds its roots in soft moments of resolve: the tear wiped alone, the breath caught, the promise made to rise once more. Remember this — your quiet battles count. Your unseen endurance matters. In the silence of your struggle, a fortress is built stone by stone. One day, you will stand tall and realize that the world did not see your strongest moments because they were meant for you alone.
By Huzaifa Writerabout a year ago in Poets
