I stopped writing love poems
The day my heart was shattered to pieces
My broken soul sobbing quietly
Watching the paper burning brightly
‘Love was not meant to be’
I whispered faintly
As I observed my dreams fading away
To the sound of their footsteps
Yet here I am
With the sweet ache in my chest
Making apologies to the Universe
For foolishly losing my faith
Here I am
In a complete devotion to his ocean eyes
That carried my gaze just as the waves
Carry the lost ship home
Here I am
In a complete surrender to the smile
That brightened up my darkened soul
And led me out of the oblivion
Here I am
In a complete awe to the feeling
That was believed to be lost forever
Until it filled every cell of my body once more
One look was enough
For my soul to recognise a long lost lover
Someone I’ve searched for countless millennia
Someone I finally
found.
About the Creator
kanioshki
mess is a form of art
https://www.instagram.com/kanioshki/
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The French philosopher Bridin once told a short story about a hungry donkey standing between two bales of hay. The grass on the left was fresh, and the grass on the right was rich. The donkey ran into a problem, not knowing which side to eat first, and finally starved to death.
By Emily Chan - Life and love sharing3 days ago in Poets
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Trigger warnings: Violence, Death. "May the Sun burn your tongue out, woman," Fredrick's father screamed the curse into his mother's ear as their elegant little carriage rumbled along, its polished wood and gilded trim glinting in the torchlight. They had just left the small village of Saffron and were on an unnamed road to the capital for the Royal wedding. Fredrick leaned back in his plush velvet seat to escape into the passing landscape, but across from him sat the servant boy, a scrappy lad named Jack. Jack's eyes held a mixture of awe and fear, the kind that only a commoner could feel in the presence of nobility. Jack looked up and caught Fredrick's gaze, offering him a sad little smile before reaching into his pocket and retrieving a little caramel treat. This candy was no doubt stolen from the kitchen treat cupboard; if he was caught with it, he would be locked in the box as punishment.
By Frank English6 days ago in Fiction
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