heartbreak

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

Addicted, but not in a way you think.
I am an addict, But not in the way you think. My addiction is touch, physical contact, & intimacy. The rush of dopamine I receive from an accidental brush of a hand is embarrassing.
By Mark2 years ago in Poets
The Nostalgia in my face
Still at the school exit It is half past 12 pain in my stomach nostalgia in my face when will my father come? Has he completed his office duty?
By Karun 2 years ago in Poets
Haiku Hearts
Learning to Breathe heart beating so fast how do I breathe once again can’t stop this thinking 🩷 Her Heart cannot breathe or think
By Savannah K. Wilson2 years ago in Poets
Dead
Silence with Barbara, I am left with leftovers of an Intense burst of familiar quiet Looking for her when my gut sounds like
By Melissa Ingoldsby2 years ago in Poets
The Boy and His Best Friend
Title: The Boy and His Best Friend In a small village surrounded by rolling hills and whispering trees, there lived a little boy named Sam. Sam was a curious and kind-hearted child, with bright eyes that sparkled like the morning sun. Despite his cheerful nature, Sam often felt lonely. His family had recently moved to the village, and he hadn’t yet made any friends.
By Timeline Teller2 years ago in Poets
Cold Shoulders of Silence
shoulders drop, she turns away I... loneliness - hers, quietens empty words, full of decay no future, as the walls.. our walls
By Paul Stewart2 years ago in Poets
gobs
the words slough off my tongue and crawl madly downwards, trailing their juices and making stains .... "you make me shine, so this one's for you/ You're like the sky, my Favorite Color Blue/ And if you're Blue... I'll shine for you..."
By Anna Cunningham2 years ago in Poets
Fate
People who love life are dying soon, while those who want to die are still living. Why is life so unfair?
By claire2 years ago in Poets
I
Sigh… I Lean into the Echo chamber of my heart. Nowhere to nestle but the Cold of my loneliness, where it all begins and
By Paris Rosemont2 years ago in Poets
Every New September
Every new September The change in the wind makes me think of him, sweeping in from the north, like a storm, that wants to bring me home.
By Ellie Hoovs2 years ago in Poets
Poe
I saw you last night as you stepped to the stage and spoke a phrase I’d heard six hundred times before. You uttered it with conviction; have
By Shana Taube2 years ago in Poets
ruins
i hate that you dream without me. does the night whisper in your ear? i was quiet when you left not because i had nothing to say
By Sara 2 years ago in Poets