Perhaps the reason why they call poems as "pieces" is because you find a piece of your heart in between the lines.
If you have suffered from a broken heart, write or read poetry.
Maybe you can fix the broken pieces, place them together and be whole again.
Or it can break and break, with every word.
Or maybe your heart was never whole to begin with

-m.b

Everyone experiences pain
in a different way, even rhetoric.
To me, physical pain
is nothing compared to words and music.

You wouldn't understand
how much I've fallen for words that said everything
I wanted to hear but to them it meant nothing.

You don't know the feeling of singing songs for years
that your soul have cried out for,
only to have it fall on deaf ears.

No, I couldn't bear it.
This pain haunts me everyday
in every little detail.

How I catch Uncle Keith pray
to different gods so Aunt Martha
would look at him in the same awestruck way.

How the Moon would shine bright
only because it's a mirror, reflecting the Sun's light.

How the ice cream melts and melts on the ground
but you'd either wipe it away or let it dry on its own.

How the words I find in poems I read
carry the same feeling of angst I bring to bed.

How my classmate came in late nonchalantly
but missed the vital parts of today's lesson, never really
able to make up for it.

They are all different scenarios
but they are all the same.

It's missing out on many things and
taking people for granted.
And there's a feeling of hurt.

No matter where you go, who you find,
what you do, there's always going to be pain.

-m.b

What I like about poetry
is all the depth of emotions it can carry.
How with every little poem I find,
the ghost of a friend would linger in my mind.
I would read in the present
but a memory from the past would bring something unpleasant.
Funny how words could affect me
like a thrashing tree,
caught in the whirlwind.
Violently shaking but my roots had me pinned.
But they're on the inside;
pain, joy, sadness, anger that I hide.
Then I find the guardian angels,
familiar in the pieces. These are the miracles
of how powerful poetry
can be. Touching emotions on a higher degree.

-m.b

you took me by the hand,
you told me you loved me,
a toy castle appeared
out of nowhere,
you told me you
bought it for us to live in,
you pulled out a ring,
it was your grandmothers,
you asked me to marry you,
i said yes before you
could finish with
a question mark.
it was the best dream
i ever had.

The sand burned and bit at my toes
As I stumbled along the dunes
The world thrashed, and in its throes
I found myself trapped and marooned.

You weren't a lake,
Nor a great typhoon,
But one cloud who would take
My hopes and dash them as you moved.

As you were swept away to new places
I cried my last tears, my water wasted.
You drifted off to wet ungrateful faces,
But you could've been my oasis.

Looking for my train
In my lost clothes
And I having no story anymore

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