love poems
Love poems for hopeless romantics; I'm the poet and you're my muse.
"I Am Tired"
I am tired of pretending I’m fine of smiling for the photos while my soul sinks quietly below Of laughing in front of people but collapsing when the room is empty Of giving advice I don’t follow Of helping others heal while I ignore my own bleeding --- I am tired of hiding in bright rooms of being the strong one when all I want is to be held Of giving a hundred chances to people who wouldn’t give me one Of accepting apologies never spoken Of waiting for a call that never comes --- They say “You’re so brave,” but they don’t see the battles I fight in silence How I wake up already exhausted from dreams I didn’t choose and fall asleep with regrets that sing like lullabies in my ears --- I am tired of counting days like they owe me something but never give me back the hope I trade for survival I am tired of being the emergency contact for people who forget I exist until they need saving --- I am tired of looking in the mirror and not recognizing the person looking back Of being everything for everyone and nothing for myself I want to scream but even my pain has learned how to whisper --- I am a whisper in a world full of noise a shadow pretending to be light just so I can belong I wear masks not for the world but to protect the little I have left inside Because if I took them off you’d see the shaking, the scars the small voice saying — “Please, don’t leave.” --- I am tired of not being enough of being too much of not knowing which one hurts more I am tired of hearing “you’ll be okay” when I’m not even sure I want to be --- If I had a tombstone it would not say my name It would say: > “He tried.” “Silently.” “With everything.” And that would be enough. --- Reflection from My Heart I know this poem is heavy. But that’s how life feels sometimes. It’s not always about hope and motivation. Sometimes it’s just about surviving another day. Sometimes you don’t need advice. You just need someone to say, “I feel this too.” Writing this helped me feel less alone. And I hope, reading it, you feel that too. Because truthfully, many of us are tired. Tired of pain, tired of waiting, tired of always being the strong one. But that doesn’t mean we are weak. It means we’ve been fighting too long — without rest, without hugs, without someone asking, “How are you really?” --- Why I Wrote This
By Muhammad Riazabout a year ago in Poets
A love that glowed in secret, fading into a celestial mystery
The stargazing hill on the outskirts of Elderglow was a forgotten place, where wildflowers tangled with the night sky’s reflection. In the summer of 2022, it was where Rowan, a twenty-year-old with ink-stained fingers and a secondhand telescope, first met Selene, the nineteen-year-old daughter of Gideon Holt, the tech mogul whose company powered the town’s economy. Rowan’s life was one of library books and odd jobs, patching together dreams under a leaky roof. Selene’s was one of glass-walled mansions and her father’s unyielding ambitions.
By Shohel Ranaabout a year ago in Poets
A love that blazed fiercely, lost to the embers of the unknown
The bonfires of Crestwood lit up the harvest festival every October, their flames dancing against the crisp night air. In 2021, it was where Theo, a twenty-year-old with threadbare flannels and hands stained from working the orchards, first saw Ivy, the eighteen-year-old daughter of Lawrence Kane, the lumber baron whose mills fueled the town’s economy. Theo’s world was one of apple crates and long hours; Ivy’s was one of velvet dresses and her father’s towering expectations.
By Shohel Ranaabout a year ago in Poets
When Love Whispers Back
The lighthouse on the cliffs of Havenport stood like a sentinel, its beam cutting through the fog that clung to the coast. In the summer of 2020, it was where Finn, a twenty-one-year-old fisherman’s son with salt-streaked hands and a quiet smile, first met Celeste, the nineteen-year-old daughter of Magnus Drayton, the shipping tycoon whose empire ruled the harbor. Finn’s life was nets and tides, his family’s boat barely afloat. Celeste’s was yacht parties and expectations, her father’s name a weight she couldn’t escape.
By Shohel Ranaabout a year ago in Poets
Where the Heart Wanders
A love that flickered in secret, lost to whispers in the night The old oak at the edge of Dunhaven’s meadow was a silent witness to the town’s secrets, its gnarled branches heavy with stories. In the summer of 2019, it sheltered Milo, a twenty-year-old with worn boots and a painter’s hands, who scraped by selling sketches at the weekly market. His world was one of thrift stores and dreams, far from the gleaming life of Nora, the eighteen-year-old daughter of Edward Varnell, the steel magnate whose factory powered the town.
By Shohel Ranaabout a year ago in Poets
