sad poetry
The cathartic nature of poetry makes it one of the best outlets to channel feelings of sadness, emotional turmoil, grief and despair.
The Forgotten One
It all started with her being the apple of their eyes she was the one that was able to breath a certain way and they would automatically know that their was something wrong with her she could hold a conversation with such pride becasue she knew that they were always there for her , giving her the strength she always needed but then that feeling slowly faded away . People she loved so much but they started to slowly break her heart, she started to feel empty, replaced and forgotten. Some moved on , some decieded to let her grow up and some just decided to pretend as she no longer existed without realising that at some point she saw them as if they were her world and once she was also all of their world. She was no longer the same she had to grow up fast as if time was not waiting for no one she no longer had time to hit the brakes she was now trying to hold on to the rope for support but that rope was now made of thorns it hurt everytime she pulled harder. She would look at the people who she called her rope who held it all together and she now saw that they were their supporting her but not in the same way they use too, they loved her but from far away, they supported her but from a far distance, they were rooting for her but in silence. She noticed it all and realized that she was forgotten but not in the way she believed she was just no longer a young girl she is now the women that was dealing withe dark secretes that no ones of and battles that she is constantly battling with and has no one to be able to break apart for becasue she was taught to fight for what she wanted and also be strong and prideful but little did they know all she truly wanted to do was to curl up into the arms of the people that have broken her heart, but she knows that its no longer possible everyone is expecting her to have it all together because of how strong she was raised to be , but they dont know that the only reason she wipes her tears away in silence and in secrete is because she was forgotten and she no longer had a choice.
By Cynthia Reyesabout a year ago in Poets
Dating Her While She’s Still Screwing Him: A Survival Guide
That’s the question. It came from a 35-year-old guy who sounds like he’s been through enough ghostings, curveballs, and post-date gut rearrangements to start a memoir. Here’s his rant, distilled and caffeinated:
By Olivia Chastityabout a year ago in Poets
When We Were Stars
In the sprawling campus of a quiet university town, beneath the ever-watchful gaze of the stars, Emma and Ryan found each other. They were both astronomy majors—two minds captivated by the cosmos, two hearts drawn together by the quiet poetry of the universe. Their connection was instant, the kind that made everything else fade into the background. While others went to parties and football games, Emma and Ryan spent their nights wrapped in blankets atop the old observatory roof, mapping constellations and whispering dreams into the night. They called themselves “star chasers,” dreamers who believed that every wish upon a star carried weight. Their love was young, passionate, full of promise. They shared coffee-fueled late nights, stressful exams, and the wonder of discovering Saturn’s rings through a telescope lens. Every milestone in their relationship was marked by celestial events—first kiss under a blood moon, their first “I love you” during the Perseid meteor shower, and a vow made under the swirling arms of the Milky Way: “No matter where we are, we’ll find each other among the stars.” But life, like the stars, is ever-moving. When graduation arrived, Emma was offered a prestigious fellowship at an international observatory in Chile. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity—a dream she had worked toward since childhood. Ryan, equally passionate about the skies, wasn’t chosen. He encouraged her to go, promising they’d make it work. “We’re written in the stars, remember?” he had said, forcing a brave smile. Long-distance was harder than either of them anticipated. The time zones, the loneliness, the growing silence—it all chipped away at their bond. Emma buried herself in work, chasing galaxies while Ryan stayed behind, teaching at a local high school and looking up at the sky, wondering where it all went wrong. Their calls became less frequent, their emails shorter. Eventually, they stopped altogether—not with a dramatic goodbye, but with a quiet, painful drift. And just like that, the universe that had brought them together slowly pulled them apart. Ten years passed. Emma returned to her hometown to care for her aging father after a fall. She hadn’t been back in years. The streets were familiar, yet distant—like constellations she once knew by heart. One crisp autumn evening, while unpacking boxes in her childhood room, she stumbled upon an old notebook. It was filled with her and Ryan’s star maps, doodles, and dreams scribbled in the margins. On impulse, she drove to the old university observatory. To her surprise, it was still standing, still open. And through the rusted door, standing behind the telescope, was Ryan. His hair was flecked with gray, and time had added lines to his face, but he was still unmistakably him—still the boy who once read the sky like poetry. He looked up, stunned, and for a moment, time rewound. The air filled with unsaid words and buried memories. They sat in silence at first, watching the stars emerge one by one. “You’re still here,” she said finally, almost in disbelief. “I never really left,” he replied. “The stars always felt a little empty without you.” They talked for hours that night—about life, lost years, their triumphs and regrets. Emma confessed how she often searched for Orion’s Belt just to feel close to him. Ryan admitted that every class he taught about constellations began with the story of a girl who taught him how to dream. Their bond rekindled like a supernova—quietly burning brighter with every shared memory. The pain of the past didn’t vanish, but it softened under the gentle glow of understanding and forgiveness. A week later, during the peak of the Leonid meteor shower, Ryan invited her back to the observatory. This time, he had a telescope, two mugs of cocoa, and a blanket—the same one they used to share. As meteors streaked across the velvet sky, Emma leaned into him. The silence was no longer heavy; it was comforting, full of things that didn’t need to be said. Ryan turned to her. “You know, we were never really lost.” She looked at him, heart full. “Just orbiting,” she whispered. “Waiting to align again.” And in that moment, under a sky ablaze with falling stars, Emma realized that some love stories don’t burn out—they simply wait in quiet galaxies, patiently circling back to where they
By zohaib khanabout a year ago in Poets
