heartbreak
They can break your heart, but they can't break your soul; poetry about lost love that comforts and uplifts.
The Things I Never Said
The Things I Never Said There’s so much I wanted to say that night, but I smiled instead. You looked tired, the kind of tired that goes beyond sleep a quiet kind of ache behind the eyes. And I thought, maybe today isn’t the day to add more weight. So I kept it light. Laughed at your stories, nodded at the pauses, filled the silences with “it’s okay”s and “I understand”s, when what I really wanted to say was: I miss the way we used to talk before everything felt like walking on glass. I think about that night more than I should. I replay it like a favorite song I’m trying to understand every glance, every breath, every almost-confession. And I wonder, if I had just said one honest thing, would we still be drifting like this now? You never knew how often I replayed our last goodbye. Not the words those were nothing new. “Take care.” “You too.” But the way you didn’t look back. The way I stood there after you left, pretending I wasn’t still hoping you’d change your mind. Some people think love is loud grand gestures, late-night calls, roses on a Tuesday just because. But the real kind? It’s quiet. It’s folding someone’s shirt the way they like. It’s remembering how they take their coffee even when they’re not around anymore. And regret? It’s even quieter. It shows up in small moments when you hear their favorite song in a café and pretend not to hear it, or when someone else says their name and your stomach twists in a way that only you notice. If I could write you one more letter, it would only say: I still care. I always did. I just didn’t know how to show it without sounding like I needed you to stay. I would tell you that I wasn’t mad just hurt, confused, caught between what I felt and what I feared. I thought if I said less, I’d lose less. But silence, it turns out, is its own kind of goodbye. There were so many nights I almost called. I had the number. I had the words. But I also had doubt, and pride, and a heart too scared of echo. I hope you’re well. I really do. Even if you’re happy in a life I’ll never be part of. Even if you’ve tucked me into a drawer labeled “past,” alongside old photos and forgotten promises. There’s no bitterness left just that soft ache you get when a dream wakes up before you do. And maybe that’s love too not the holding on, but the wishing well. Sometimes, late at night, when everything’s quiet except the hum of the fridge and the sound of my own heart remembering, I think about who we were before the world got so loud. And I think,
By Md.Imam Hassan Nurabout a year ago in Poets
My First Threesome
I am Amara and I am now thirty, but this happened when I was 27. At the time, I felt like my sex life with my boyfriend Jason had fallen into a routine. That all changed one evening when he came home with a spark in his eyes and an idea that nearly made me choke on my wine.
By Olivia Chastityabout a year ago in Poets
After Six Years His Wife’s Darkest Secret Exposed
At a gathering in California, I met a man who shared a story that completely stunned me. With a few drinks giving him the courage to speak then he opened up about the unbelievable circumstances surrounding his marriage.
By Olivia Chastityabout a year ago in Poets
