heartbreak

They can break your heart, but they can't break your soul; poetry about lost love that comforts and uplifts.

The Circle’s Cycle
I spin in an endless loop, a storm too loud to quiet. Tornado of a life, memories scattered like leaves. I shuffle forward,
By Marvelous Michael2 years ago in Poets
Joy & Fun
We need fun and joy So, please don't take the fun out of life And please don't take the joy out of life Let’s celebrate together
By L.I.E2 years ago in Poets
I am IT . Top Story - January 2025.
Anxiety waves wash over me this December 31, 2024. In years past, there was excitement, or fatigue, waiting for Rocking New Year’s Eve and gastronomic juices flowing, thinking of our January 1st good luck dinner. This year’s end is an exclamation. I am now IT, the last one. When my mother died, the realization exploded in my brain that being the youngest conferred the unique experience of more loss. I would be the last to die, the survivor, my fate that of experiencing more loss. I reached it this year. Here it is. I have arrived. I have no one to ask about a forgotten or dim memory, no one to clarify confusion in the youngest's memories.
By Andrea Corwin 2 years ago in Poets
The Process
I write my soul To process things outside my control Not everything felt is good It may feel good But some are just a welt
By Atomic Historian2 years ago in Poets
The Memory Box
Sophia sat in the quiet living room, staring at the small, intricately carved wooden box that had been left to her in her grandmother’s will. The box was old, its surface worn smooth by years of handling, but the carvings of flowers and vines were still sharp and beautiful. It sat on her lap like a weight, its presence both comforting and intimidating.
By Thomas2 years ago in Poets
When I Die
When I Die When I die, don’t come to my resting place, Crying your love, letting tears trace. I needed your words, your touch, your care,
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 2 years ago in Poets
Oblivious
Sometimes it’s better to be oblivious Than to be fully aware of the insidiousness that surrounds us Sometimes it’s better to shut one’s eyes
By Atomic Historian2 years ago in Poets
Shall I Try To Love Again
Shall I Try To Love Again As John stands, key in hand, A lock upon his broken heart, His eyes are filled with quiet sorrow,
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 2 years ago in Poets
Fleeting
You were like a distant dream, Forever in the memory, Blurred along the lines of reality, Never to be seen again.
By Simran Daniel2 years ago in Poets
The Beginning Man
The Beginning Man A beggar man with no shoes, Sits upon the cold stone blues, His hands are cracked, his face is worn, A life of loss, a spirit torn.
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 2 years ago in Poets
Words Are Like Bullets
Words Are Like Bullets Words are like bullets, they wound and kill, Sharper than daggers, bending to will. They pierce through the heart, unseen but severe,
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 2 years ago in Poets
History’s Tapestry—Teaches
Excuse after excuse. Recuse after blood-drenched recuse. Pardon after soul-raping pardon. When will it stop? When will erasure stop? How many bodies, how many lives must be wilfully, strategically, unjustifiably broken—ceased? Cyclical cynicism after catastrophic cyclical cynicism. Yet—humanity fails. Humanity fails—to learn. Learn the life-sacrificing lesson that history's treacherous tapestry—teaches.
By Paul Stewart2 years ago in Poets