#ache poems on Hello Poetry

Yuiza Nabin 23h

how much is too moved?
more than a light year
and less than an inch
you can't grasp it either way

but isn't it easy
to imagine?

how much is not enough?
i guess as much as i don't have
which is enough to hold on to
easier said
than done

how much is lost forever?
i don't want to say
i just want you to hold me
and comfort me
like another stone in my pocket

(it looks better outside when it's raining)

and as the day pours down
i ache for all that we have lost

#rain #ache #loss

Kalliope 1d

Consequences

What's the point of healing if those who inspired change won't feel it?

I'm just supposed to be better for someone else?

Like moving a mountain to pave a path,
Connecting two cities at last
Just to keep walking on without even looking back?

But that's the way it goes
I suppose

And that is in fact the way that it goes
But you get to be better for yourself

#drafts #regret #acceptance #ache #lessons #growth #healing

ria 3d

grieve somewhere in me

and it’ll be as if it never happened.

and it’ll all fade away.

days and months and years
and nothing will be the same.

maybe you’ll be older and wiser
maybe you’ll be kinder

and it’ll all be a bad dream
something to shake you up from your sleep

and it’ll leave you to wonder
was it even real?

have i no wounds to heal?
the scars will thicken over
it’ll be brand new again

you’ll forget of love and war
and you will never mend

the tiny fracture in your armor
will create the same salt somber

that somewhere your heart is thieved
that somewhere, within me, your heart, it grieves.

#grieve #heartbreak #love #ache #pain #war #somber #fade #older #wiser

Ashlee Carpenter Jul 15

Mind drug (haiku)

You are my mind anymore;
In each fold and crack,
lies you and our memories

#obsession #love #ache

Kalliope Jul 15

Exsanguination

When did your ventricles stop pushing me through?

And why can’t your atriums hold me now too?

No more are the days my presence rests in your veins,

Your arteries don’t even remember my name.

No trace of me in capillary lines,

Their refill’s normal- your pulse
perfectly fine.

A love so strong it once gave you life,

But it seems you’ve bled me out to survive.

Whether you're sepsis or oxygen-
I don't know,
But i can't get you out of my system

#love #loss #ache #heart #anatomy #grief #analyzing

kortu valentine Jul 14

where I come undone.

she calls me by my name,
and i answer without words—
only an offering:
a silent prayer,
bare skin,
a breath held,
a promise kept sacred,
to worship her.

she calls,
and i answer with stillness.
like dusk slipping
into the night—
utterly, completely—
pulling me apart
under the tears
of moonlight.

she calls
even as i soak
in her waves,
as they kiss my collarbone,
make heaven blush
when i fall to my knees,
laced around her soul.

her intention to claim me
was there from the start.
written in her whispers
******* my thoughts.
she never asked
what broke me.
only reached with rippled hands
to take my weight,
press it into the riverbed
like something malevolent,
already forgiven.

this one is about the ache i carry for water — for the stillness, the surrender, the quiet kind of belonging she offers.
july 14, 2025.

#river #water #sea #ocean #belonging #stillness #calm #ache #broken #forgiveness

Rhiannon Clayton Jul 8

Triggered

Pain poured from my being, dripping from my fingertips like blood. Emotion scaled the walls and crept into my heart like a silent scream.
My heart beat inside my mind, its pace quickening, and my senses heightened.
My body felt the ache of the war that tore through me.
I am still healing from the battles this world has ****** upon me.
My body feels like a war zone.
I gasp through the tremors of pain, night terrors clinging to my sheets.
My jaw is tight from clenching; pain is a constant, and I am still here.
I am still fighting.

-Rhia Clay

This poem is very personal to me. I have PTSD from my time in the military, and I wrote it recently to express the feeling of being triggered. The preparation for war, the experience of war itself, and all that occurs in between are not pretty. Military service and the invisible battles faced by those who serve—often without the permission to show their struggles—can take a significant toll, with some paying the price for a lifetime. I do have many good days, but this poem was not written on one of them. Thank you for taking the time to read this note and my poem.

#triggered #ptsd #fighting #veteran #ache #world #war #zone #being #heart

Mays Benatti Jul 6

Untitled

One breath, we were family
the next, two silhouettes unrecognisable.

Are we strangers now?
I’m unsure.
But I do know this:
we stood, souls stripped,
bare in the quiet between us.

I wanted to trust you
to lay my heart in your palms
like kindling,
hoping you’d keep it warm.

Still, I ache.
Not just for your touch,
but for that fierce, wordless belonging.

#heart #kindling #quiet #unsure #family #trust #ache #strangers

Kiernan Norman Jul 6

Tell That to the Alter

I touch things I’m not supposed to
and call it prayer.
mouth open,
spine bent,
tongue tasting the fence line.

They say longing is holy
if it stays quiet,
but mine doesn’t—
mine breaks the jar and drinks the oil.

They told me I was an open wound,
festering with verse and girlhood.
They weren’t wrong.
But wrong feels a lot like worship
when done slow enough.

They say impure
like it’s a curse,
but all my favorite girls
are made of swampwater and sin.

I’ve never confessed
without turning it into performance.
My mouth was built
for poetry
and plea deals.

I was thirteen
when I learned to ache
without making a sound.
Seventeen
when I turned it into scripture.
Twenty-five
when I realized no one was coming
to carry the body but me.

I keep trying to write
the right-sized truth
but it never fits in a single poem
or apology.

I want back the girl
who ran barefoot into fire
because she believed
it might be heaven.

I want someone to touch me like I’m soft—
even if I’m not.
Even if I bite back.

I want to grab
without apologizing
for how hot my hands are.
I want someone to look at me
like a threat they’d die for.

I want the kind of love
that makes funerals nervous.
I want to be written about
by someone who isn’t me.

And I want to want less.
But I don’t.

You want a softer girl?
Tell that to the altar
I keep burying her under.

#poetry #girlhood #confessional #desire #holy #ache #myth #vulnerability #feminine #longing

Rhiannon Clayton Jul 3

Keith-A Note For My Father

As the 4th of July approaches, people prepare their fireworks and barbecues.
They emerge from their cozy corners, their towns and homes.
All getting ready for the festivities, their eyes sparkling with the anticipation of joy and relaxation.
I look up at my colorful banners and blue balloons, gently swaying in the breeze.
I shut my eyes and breathe in the aroma of barbecued meat mingled with a trace of smoke drifting from a nearby restaurant.
A sense of peace washes over me, accompanied by a bittersweet feeling as I remember a loved one who left this world on this American holiday.
It was 1997, and I was merely ten years old when the man I called my father took his final breath. I was just a child, and my world shattered into pieces as I watched him fight. I felt powerless to change the course of events, understanding that nothing could hold his spirit back from departing this life.
My tiny hands and aching heart were unable to save him.
Yet his compassion lives on in this world and within me. His love remains unforgotten.
Through my father, I experienced a love that was unconditional, and I carry that in my heart with affection and remembrance. I treasure our moments together and cling to the belief that our souls will reunite.
May these words find you in heaven until I can reach you.

-Rhia Clay

#heaven #grief #father #independence #day #ache #heart #belief #man #love