They can break your heart, but they can't break your soul; poetry about lost love that comforts and uplifts.
"When you saw the honey dripping from my lips, why didn't you tell me the sweetness beckoned yours?" "Fear settled deep in my heart, so much so, that my mouth tasted putrid. I couldn't bear the thought of tainting your candied tongue with my rancid jaw"
By Soul2 years ago in Poets
911, what’s your emergency Well, I’m not sure, just feeling odd Tell me you name and rank the urgency It’s about ten, just call me god
By Kelli Sheckler-Amsden2 years ago in Poets
I'm sorry... I'm sorry I overthink I'm sorry my mind is quick to think the worst I'm sorry it bugs you I promise I try not to
By Mercedes Chavez2 years ago in Poets
For too long I led a life of joyless and hopeless pursuits Of the next best rush since the last one. * (When we were younger)
By Paul Stewart2 years ago in Poets
This house is not a home. Not if I make my room my "own." Not if the family is here. This house is not a home. I think of this as something temporary.
By Paige Krause2 years ago in Poets
you knew me biblically but never like a religion while i was your most devout disciple breathing you in was gospel and the light in your eyes washed me of all my ails
By M.B. Arthur2 years ago in Poets
In a quaint village nestled between rolling hills and dense, whispering forests, there stood an old, forgotten mansion. Its stone walls were draped with ivy, and its windows, clouded with age, held the secrets of generations long past. The villagers spoke of the mansion in hushed tones, recounting tales of eerie lights and strange noises that emanated from within its crumbling walls.
By tinku2 years ago in Poets
I’m familiar with this part of the sky I watch the stars move, in-fact it’s the earth moving I long stare till I’m occupied with something mundane
By The Madman2 years ago in Poets
It's sad that I'm left alone. Thinking about you brings tears to my eyes. We were a small, new family. With bright future plans.
By Nelo2 years ago in Poets
Tears, oh tears, what are you good for? Do you serve a purpose, or just make us sore? Do you bring relief, or just more pain?
By Solomon Walker2 years ago in Poets
In halls of polished pretence, where mirrors magnify, Echoing whispers of deceit, beneath the azure sky. Grafted truths wilt and wane in the hush of routine’s lull,
The muse of poetry in its depths stalls the ensue of thee, Drowning in the sparse spectacle of hope left, one dives into the waters of misery.
By Hridya Sharma2 years ago in Poets
