#heartbreaking - Hello Poetry

At 1:00 When the world is quite And mine is not Feeling home sick Which doesn't exist Suffering Wishing the pain to go away Home far far away The nearest I can go is a house Of bricks and cement

0

May 11

May 11, 2026 at 3:26 PM UTC

MY_POETIC_DIARY

Home not a house

At 1:00 When the world is quite And mine is not Feeling home sick Which doesn't exist Suffering Wishing the pain to go away Home far far away The nearest I can go is a house Of bricks and cement

10

The reality is that I'm never going to get over this Maybe I'll grow around the pain and go on dates and fake love like I used to but it would never be the same I'll never trust anyone like I did I'll never hope for someone the way I did for you I'll never love anyone as much as I loved you That moment in Hamburg airport in a baby blue sweater With a new haircut and the excitement of being close again Walking across Tower bridge hand in hand talking about how being in love means working on things like couples therapy and being honest like your friends did Still there was a day you decided we stopped working I came in touching distance of getting everything I ever wanted of being the person that I should have always been Of really truly being loved for once Of really being seen

0

Apr 29

Apr 29, 2026 at 10:27 AM UTC

Borrowing_Problems

Almost

The reality is that I'm never going to get over this Maybe I'll grow around the pain and go on dates and fake love like I used to but it would never be the same I'll never trust anyone like I did I'll never hope for someone the way I did for you I'll never love anyone as much as I loved you That moment in Hamburg airport in a baby blue sweater With a new haircut and the excitement of being close again Walking across Tower bridge hand in hand talking about how being in love means working on things like couples therapy and being honest like your friends did Still there was a day you decided we stopped working I came in touching distance of getting everything I ever wanted of being the person that I should have always been Of really truly being loved for once Of really being seen

20

I can’t help but feel like I’ve let you down, like somewhere along the way I became someone you no longer recognise, someone you can’t place in the future you’re building. And I keep wondering when that shift happened, when I stopped being enough and started being optional. You choose them over me, even when you don’t say it out loud. I see it in the pauses, in the way your replies fade, in the silence where your messages used to live. It’s quiet now, too quiet, like something that mattered has already ended and I’m the only one still holding onto it. I wonder if they get the version of you I remember, the one who stayed up late, who made time without asking, who spoke like I mattered. I wonder if they hear your laughter the way I used to, if they get the softness you don’t show me anymore. Days pass, slow and heavy, and I don’t know why my stomach sinks the way it does, like my body already knows what my mind won’t admit, that I’m losing you in pieces I can’t hold together. I keep asking myself, are you going to leave, or am I meant to go first? Would it hurt you more if I disappeared quietly, or stayed long enough to watch you let me go? Would leaving make you miss me, or just make it easier to forget I was ever here? Because I want to be yours, more than anything I can explain, in the way that feels whole, certain, real. But I can’t exist as a second choice, as something you return to when it’s convenient. I can’t be half loved, half seen, half held. And maybe that’s the hardest part, realising I would give you everything, while you’re already learning how to live without me.

0

Apr 19

Apr 19, 2026 at 10:04 PM UTC

Lovekills

Losing you in pieces

I can’t help but feel like I’ve let you down, like somewhere along the way I became someone you no longer recognise, someone you can’t place in the future you’re building. And I keep wondering when that shift happened, when I stopped being enough and started being optional. You choose them over me, even when you don’t say it out loud. I see it in the pauses, in the way your replies fade, in the silence where your messages used to live. It’s quiet now, too quiet, like something that mattered has already ended and I’m the only one still holding onto it. I wonder if they get the version of you I remember, the one who stayed up late, who made time without asking, who spoke like I mattered. I wonder if they hear your laughter the way I used to, if they get the softness you don’t show me anymore. Days pass, slow and heavy, and I don’t know why my stomach sinks the way it does, like my body already knows what my mind won’t admit, that I’m losing you in pieces I can’t hold together. I keep asking myself, are you going to leave, or am I meant to go first? Would it hurt you more if I disappeared quietly, or stayed long enough to watch you let me go? Would leaving make you miss me, or just make it easier to forget I was ever here? Because I want to be yours, more than anything I can explain, in the way that feels whole, certain, real. But I can’t exist as a second choice, as something you return to when it’s convenient. I can’t be half loved, half seen, half held. And maybe that’s the hardest part, realising I would give you everything, while you’re already learning how to live without me.

67

we would rather discern a fleeting renunciation than transmute these destitute ends.. but I grasp what needs to be catalyzed in hindsight. I wouldn't trade this execrable disdain that echo through the night, cause you taught me radical honesty.. Surreptitiously as these circumstances engrain, you're teaching me accountability without self flagellation. Persiflage tides that drown these ambition, shows me that our words need to flourish, not erode and to respect your own sovereignty. The Fabrics of our Anatomy and the center point of singularity seems like a blissful illustration that yields us to stop negotiating with ghosts of our past that haunts our desires for this embellishing entanglement. A nervous systematic disposition we have here, a conjunction of eccentricities I still have to decipher. Along with the idiosyncrasies I trace upon the lines of her fragile nature. Adored and abhored alone the same poles we dance through. As the Incremental waves of beauty and desolate reverberating measures throw my faculties asunder from a structural love, instead of an optional one. Easy to say, the reflection is refractive bound we must learn to adhere to, so I'm done chasing, the dynamic ends as... The adscititious wavelengths that convalesce Innately in her, disposes her complex anatomical snare that once seemed impeded, to realize the root of this dismal length.. but the intense limerence entailed a familiarity that transverse world's that resides beneath those eyes, a reflection Innately the atoms danced to. "Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo" ( if I cannot sway heaven, than I will raise hell) for there is no heaven like here and no hell I wouldn't endure. "Fluctuat nec mergitur"( she is tossed by the waves but doesn't sink) a symbolistic resilience that is admirable.. as our problems root from the mirror tendencies we haven't resolved but peace is the pinnacle of our unfortunate aptness to defragrate our inclinations. This I must meditate upon, and integrate eventually. So we quit burning the seams woven inbetween us and the propensity we once crystallized. At least it's animating as much as alienating. Until next time. Where Namaste relatively seems dimensions away but somehow prevalent. Until we cross again. _ Twins at times feel more intense than intimate.. but I presupposes I'm ready for this hopefully resounding interlude.

0

Apr 16

Apr 16, 2026 at 12:53 PM UTC

marty-t-ottman

My magnum opus

we would rather discern a fleeting renunciation than transmute these destitute ends.. but I grasp what needs to be catalyzed in hindsight. I wouldn't trade this execrable disdain that echo through the night, cause you taught me radical honesty.. Surreptitiously as these circumstances engrain, you're teaching me accountability without self flagellation. Persiflage tides that drown these ambition, shows me that our words need to flourish, not erode and to respect your own sovereignty. The Fabrics of our Anatomy and the center point of singularity seems like a blissful illustration that yields us to stop negotiating with ghosts of our past that haunts our desires for this embellishing entanglement. A nervous systematic disposition we have here, a conjunction of eccentricities I still have to decipher. Along with the idiosyncrasies I trace upon the lines of her fragile nature. Adored and abhored alone the same poles we dance through. As the Incremental waves of beauty and desolate reverberating measures throw my faculties asunder from a structural love, instead of an optional one. Easy to say, the reflection is refractive bound we must learn to adhere to, so I'm done chasing, the dynamic ends as... The adscititious wavelengths that convalesce Innately in her, disposes her complex anatomical snare that once seemed impeded, to realize the root of this dismal length.. but the intense limerence entailed a familiarity that transverse world's that resides beneath those eyes, a reflection Innately the atoms danced to. "Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo" ( if I cannot sway heaven, than I will raise hell) for there is no heaven like here and no hell I wouldn't endure. "Fluctuat nec mergitur"( she is tossed by the waves but doesn't sink) a symbolistic resilience that is admirable.. as our problems root from the mirror tendencies we haven't resolved but peace is the pinnacle of our unfortunate aptness to defragrate our inclinations. This I must meditate upon, and integrate eventually. So we quit burning the seams woven inbetween us and the propensity we once crystallized. At least it's animating as much as alienating. Until next time. Where Namaste relatively seems dimensions away but somehow prevalent. Until we cross again. _ Twins at times feel more intense than intimate.. but I presupposes I'm ready for this hopefully resounding interlude.

14

I post just to see you in an icon, instead of getting your face out of my circle. I leave you, but I never learn how to let you go. I loved you when I had to leave you there endlessly. I wanted you, with every wrong beat of my heart. You were, so many times, a wildfire in my chest. Now, I'm here writing poetry instead of letting you leave. I ought not to have loved you. My heart should have stayed silent. And, again, I'm here writing poetry instead of letting you leave. please, leave me.

0

Jan 26

Jan 26, 2026 at 9:26 PM UTC

brenolucas

My heart stuttered at your name, and I'm on the floor.

I post just to see you in an icon, instead of getting your face out of my circle. I leave you, but I never learn how to let you go. I loved you when I had to leave you there endlessly. I wanted you, with every wrong beat of my heart. You were, so many times, a wildfire in my chest. Now, I'm here writing poetry instead of letting you leave. I ought not to have loved you. My heart should have stayed silent. And, again, I'm here writing poetry instead of letting you leave. please, leave me.

23

I was always a Poet. At heart l always expressed my emotions in voice l could only hear. I was powerless even more brutal-silenced, and in that moment the tears came rolling down it fountain. A piece of paper was all l had: So for once l wasn’t so silent, l was powerless but wasn’t silent. For once l didn’t quench this consuming fire I allowed my self burn in this fire that has been repressed . With burning eyes l realised l had found my way . My words weren’t as pretty as the words of a poet combined that made my heart ache or flutter. But in the moment my words were my freedom and that made me a poet at heart.

0

Jan 7

Jan 7, 2026 at 9:18 PM UTC

Nyx-toria

Why be a poet ?

I was always a Poet. At heart l always expressed my emotions in voice l could only hear. I was powerless even more brutal-silenced, and in that moment the tears came rolling down it fountain. A piece of paper was all l had: So for once l wasn’t so silent, l was powerless but wasn’t silent. For once l didn’t quench this consuming fire I allowed my self burn in this fire that has been repressed . With burning eyes l realised l had found my way . My words weren’t as pretty as the words of a poet combined that made my heart ache or flutter. But in the moment my words were my freedom and that made me a poet at heart.

12

Words die young here. They choke on red tape and trembling hands, their bones scattered in blank spaces a graveyard of meaning dressed up as “safety.” Every cut steals a heartbeat. Every censored line becomes a ghost pacing the margins, begging to be heard a whisper strangled mid-thought. The poem once pulsed, wild and alive, spilling blood and beauty in equal measure, but now it limps, confused, each pause a wound that never heals. Try explaining your pain with half your tongue torn out. Try breathing freely when the air is filtered for comfort. When you cannot scream, you swallow the sound. It sours. It rots. It claws its way inward, turning art into acid, love into something sharp and hidden. Censorship doesn’t protect, it corrodes. It teaches silence to wear a smile, teaches poets to flinch at their own fire until all that’s left is a flicker, trembling in a room too afraid to glow. But listen beneath the hush, the heartbeat grows louder. Even silence can’t stop a truth that wants to live. (Unmute the Fire!) How dare you call this peace. Your silence is not virtue it’s surrender dressed up as dignity. You nod while the poets choke, applauding the emptiness you created as if obedience were a holy act. You feed the machine our tongues and call it order. You burn our books for warmth then shiver at the cold you made. Don’t you see? The cage hums because we’ve learned to sing in whispers, not because the bird is free. You tell us boundaries make us better, that soft edges are “safe.” But safety is a slow poison a rot that smells like civility and tastes like nothing. It bleaches the art, the ache, the us. We were born howling, built from unfiltered sound and chaos. You cannot grind our teeth smooth and still expect us to speak truth. Your comfort is not worth our voices. So listen we’re done kneeling to the muzzle. Done swallowing rage for your approval. The ink will run riot again; the lines will bleed past your borders. We will write loud, ugly, alive until freedom stops being a metaphor and starts being breath. This ends when you finally listen. When you stop calling silence peaceful. When you remember that control is only ever fear pretending to be wisdom. We are coming for our words. Every one of them. And this time, we’re not asking. (Rise, Uncensored!) Enough of the hush. Enough of polite poison. We are not the quiet kind we were born to crack ceilings, to tear the tape from the trembling mouth of truth. Do you feel it? That pulse in the gut, that ache that says this isn’t right. That’s the revolution rumbling in your ribs don’t you dare smother it with manners. They told you silence keeps the peace. Lies. Silence keeps you small. It turns poets into ghosts, artists into cautionary tales, and truth-tellers into echoes. You’ve seen the cost a world full of words with no soul left behind them. So rise. Pick up your forbidden ink, your outlaw voice, and write in the places they said were off limits. Speak until your throat burns and your fear crumbles. Let your art be the mirror that offends, the wound that heals by bleeding. Tear down the wall of acceptable speech. Paint over it with something too honest to ignore. They can ban the words, but not the reason we need them. There is no freedom in silence. There is no truth in fear. There is only life in expression raw, real, relentless. So rise, uncensored. Let the world tremble under the sound of your unleashed heart. Let the censors cover their ears, and may the brave finally hear each other.

0

Dec 10, 2025

Dec 10, 2025 at 12:26 PM UTC

Silfrinlogi

Silence Burns Louder

Words die young here. They choke on red tape and trembling hands, their bones scattered in blank spaces a graveyard of meaning dressed up as “safety.” Every cut steals a heartbeat. Every censored line becomes a ghost pacing the margins, begging to be heard a whisper strangled mid-thought. The poem once pulsed, wild and alive, spilling blood and beauty in equal measure, but now it limps, confused, each pause a wound that never heals. Try explaining your pain with half your tongue torn out. Try breathing freely when the air is filtered for comfort. When you cannot scream, you swallow the sound. It sours. It rots. It claws its way inward, turning art into acid, love into something sharp and hidden. Censorship doesn’t protect, it corrodes. It teaches silence to wear a smile, teaches poets to flinch at their own fire until all that’s left is a flicker, trembling in a room too afraid to glow. But listen beneath the hush, the heartbeat grows louder. Even silence can’t stop a truth that wants to live. (Unmute the Fire!) How dare you call this peace. Your silence is not virtue it’s surrender dressed up as dignity. You nod while the poets choke, applauding the emptiness you created as if obedience were a holy act. You feed the machine our tongues and call it order. You burn our books for warmth then shiver at the cold you made. Don’t you see? The cage hums because we’ve learned to sing in whispers, not because the bird is free. You tell us boundaries make us better, that soft edges are “safe.” But safety is a slow poison a rot that smells like civility and tastes like nothing. It bleaches the art, the ache, the us. We were born howling, built from unfiltered sound and chaos. You cannot grind our teeth smooth and still expect us to speak truth. Your comfort is not worth our voices. So listen we’re done kneeling to the muzzle. Done swallowing rage for your approval. The ink will run riot again; the lines will bleed past your borders. We will write loud, ugly, alive until freedom stops being a metaphor and starts being breath. This ends when you finally listen. When you stop calling silence peaceful. When you remember that control is only ever fear pretending to be wisdom. We are coming for our words. Every one of them. And this time, we’re not asking. (Rise, Uncensored!) Enough of the hush. Enough of polite poison. We are not the quiet kind we were born to crack ceilings, to tear the tape from the trembling mouth of truth. Do you feel it? That pulse in the gut, that ache that says this isn’t right. That’s the revolution rumbling in your ribs don’t you dare smother it with manners. They told you silence keeps the peace. Lies. Silence keeps you small. It turns poets into ghosts, artists into cautionary tales, and truth-tellers into echoes. You’ve seen the cost a world full of words with no soul left behind them. So rise. Pick up your forbidden ink, your outlaw voice, and write in the places they said were off limits. Speak until your throat burns and your fear crumbles. Let your art be the mirror that offends, the wound that heals by bleeding. Tear down the wall of acceptable speech. Paint over it with something too honest to ignore. They can ban the words, but not the reason we need them. There is no freedom in silence. There is no truth in fear. There is only life in expression raw, real, relentless. So rise, uncensored. Let the world tremble under the sound of your unleashed heart. Let the censors cover their ears, and may the brave finally hear each other.

108

Like the clouds Running to be with the sun Little did it know That the very thing he desire will be his demise And on his journey to the West, On the pursuit of the light So little he know, That he'll be enveloped by The eerie darkness of the night Again It's hard to turn the page to a new page When our fav character is not there

0

Mar 15, 2025

Mar 15, 2025 at 7:02 PM UTC

_hilbert_

A new page

Like the clouds Running to be with the sun Little did it know That the very thing he desire will be his demise And on his journey to the West, On the pursuit of the light So little he know, That he'll be enveloped by The eerie darkness of the night Again It's hard to turn the page to a new page When our fav character is not there

12

No matter how brightly the stars shine They can never outshine the moon's silvery glow Yet no matter how long the moon shine, She'll never have her own light Under the silent veil of the night Echoed with the songs of the waves So freely as they flow Over this wilted love inside my grave Drunk from my own wine Aching for a tale that never intertwined

0

Mar 13, 2025

Mar 13, 2025 at 7:56 PM UTC

_hilbert_

The glow of the moon

No matter how brightly the stars shine They can never outshine the moon's silvery glow Yet no matter how long the moon shine, She'll never have her own light Under the silent veil of the night Echoed with the songs of the waves So freely as they flow Over this wilted love inside my grave Drunk from my own wine Aching for a tale that never intertwined

10

As someone who was born in chaos. I did not know what it meant to be loved. So when I met you. As delusional as I am. As broken as I am. As naive as I am. I thought that our relationship was real. I thought that your love was real even though you do not exist. Loving you could not bring me any harm. I have to admit that I was wrong. Loving you is hurting me even if it is not something you intended to do. Loving you has suffocated me because as much as I hate to admit I know that someday I have to let you go. I have to let myself free. I cannot desperately live in the thought that Someday you will exist. Someday I can love you openly. Someday our love will be normalized. Because as much as I loved to be with you. I cannot cling to my unrealistic hopes Forever I am sorry that at the end of the day. I am only human. I am sorry that at the end of the day. I am selfish. I am sorry that at the end of the day. I want something you cannot give.

0

Mar 6, 2025

Mar 6, 2025 at 10:14 AM UTC

theescapist2001

Storm In The Desert

As someone who was born in chaos. I did not know what it meant to be loved. So when I met you. As delusional as I am. As broken as I am. As naive as I am. I thought that our relationship was real. I thought that your love was real even though you do not exist. Loving you could not bring me any harm. I have to admit that I was wrong. Loving you is hurting me even if it is not something you intended to do. Loving you has suffocated me because as much as I hate to admit I know that someday I have to let you go. I have to let myself free. I cannot desperately live in the thought that Someday you will exist. Someday I can love you openly. Someday our love will be normalized. Because as much as I loved to be with you. I cannot cling to my unrealistic hopes Forever I am sorry that at the end of the day. I am only human. I am sorry that at the end of the day. I am selfish. I am sorry that at the end of the day. I want something you cannot give.

31

The cutoff begins here, All like you never known me. You made it crystal clear, Burning your love to debris. Where I always wanted, When they first saw me with you. You so gaunt and haunted, I rocked your world and you knew. I would drown out your soul, Every bit and least of it. Save you from your sick hole, Hurt pleasure until you quit. Do you still miss me, or, Are you alone still sore?

0

Feb 26, 2025

Feb 26, 2025 at 5:05 PM UTC

NickolasJMcKee

Heartbreaking

The cutoff begins here, All like you never known me. You made it crystal clear, Burning your love to debris. Where I always wanted, When they first saw me with you. You so gaunt and haunted, I rocked your world and you knew. I would drown out your soul, Every bit and least of it. Save you from your sick hole, Hurt pleasure until you quit. Do you still miss me, or, Are you alone still sore?

14

And I can't ask you questions here: Why do you sad? What was unclear? Why did you hide your loud look? What questions were misunderstood? And, in the end, it's something wrong. I can't deny it for so long. This interval that stands between Reminds me: Girl, you're just eighteen. And I might cross all ******* lines, And I don't care about these rights. We both not stupid, you're not a child. It's time to stop blowminded fights. And I'll ask: what hurts so much? Was our meeting just a touch? How many times did you regret, That I'm not yours, that it's the end?

0

Feb 22, 2025

Feb 22, 2025 at 4:05 AM UTC

rano_pererozhdena

And i can't ask you questions here...

And I can't ask you questions here: Why do you sad? What was unclear? Why did you hide your loud look? What questions were misunderstood? And, in the end, it's something wrong. I can't deny it for so long. This interval that stands between Reminds me: Girl, you're just eighteen. And I might cross all ******* lines, And I don't care about these rights. We both not stupid, you're not a child. It's time to stop blowminded fights. And I'll ask: what hurts so much? Was our meeting just a touch? How many times did you regret, That I'm not yours, that it's the end?

16

Why is love both breathtakingly beautiful and heartbreakingly painful? Like a rose in full bloom, its vivid colors dazzle the eyes, and its petals unfold to reveal hidden beauty. Its fragrance can draw in even the most guarded, yet its thorns pierce deeply when mishandled, reaching places where secrets lie. Love is the sweetness of honey on soft, inviting lips, intoxicating and delightful, yet overwhelming if taken without care. It’s a songbird soaring through the sky, its melody gracing the world below, until its wings are clipped, turning songs into sorrowful cries. Love is the ocean, vast and endless, with tides that caress softly before transforming into crashing waves that overwhelm. It’s the gentle kiss of the sun, warming the soul on a cold day, but lingering too long, it burns the unguarded. Like a blazing fire, love burns brightly, illuminating everything around it, but left untended, it can consume all in its path. It’s the joy whispered while gazing into your stormy gray-blue eyes, a joy that gives way to an aching longing that echoes like thunder in its absence. Love, it seems, is a force that creates and destroys with every breath we take. So, hold that glass of wine delicately, savor its sweetness before it turns bitter. Grip it too tightly, and the shards may cut deep. Love is both bitter and sweet, a fleeting perfection that we are destined to encounter, again and again.

0

Jan 15, 2025

Jan 15, 2025 at 2:27 PM UTC

MuaveJay

Devine Yet Tainted

Why is love both breathtakingly beautiful and heartbreakingly painful? Like a rose in full bloom, its vivid colors dazzle the eyes, and its petals unfold to reveal hidden beauty. Its fragrance can draw in even the most guarded, yet its thorns pierce deeply when mishandled, reaching places where secrets lie. Love is the sweetness of honey on soft, inviting lips, intoxicating and delightful, yet overwhelming if taken without care. It’s a songbird soaring through the sky, its melody gracing the world below, until its wings are clipped, turning songs into sorrowful cries. Love is the ocean, vast and endless, with tides that caress softly before transforming into crashing waves that overwhelm. It’s the gentle kiss of the sun, warming the soul on a cold day, but lingering too long, it burns the unguarded. Like a blazing fire, love burns brightly, illuminating everything around it, but left untended, it can consume all in its path. It’s the joy whispered while gazing into your stormy gray-blue eyes, a joy that gives way to an aching longing that echoes like thunder in its absence. Love, it seems, is a force that creates and destroys with every breath we take. So, hold that glass of wine delicately, savor its sweetness before it turns bitter. Grip it too tightly, and the shards may cut deep. Love is both bitter and sweet, a fleeting perfection that we are destined to encounter, again and again.

1

I sight in vain, the cause of my distain, A slur of hope to be washed away by the pain, Espoused to unfortune, I weep and weep, For the love I find, is the one I cannot Keep

0

Sep 23, 2024

Sep 23, 2024 at 6:59 AM UTC

Petty_poetry___

Prone to a heartbreak

I sight in vain, the cause of my distain, A slur of hope to be washed away by the pain, Espoused to unfortune, I weep and weep, For the love I find, is the one I cannot Keep

8

Inquire of my condition, "I have an ill heart "shall I retort, For it fails every single one of my logic, Over a petty whim, A dull heart is the cause of my misery I have come to know, But I hope to not grieve, And for it to not show.

0

Sep 22, 2024

Sep 22, 2024 at 8:42 AM UTC

Petty_poetry___

Is there a cure for an ill heart?

Inquire of my condition, "I have an ill heart "shall I retort, For it fails every single one of my logic, Over a petty whim, A dull heart is the cause of my misery I have come to know, But I hope to not grieve, And for it to not show.

7

I will trade tears for rain anyday, I didn't want to be with you anyway. since, you decided to go far away, I can't deal with this heartbreak for another day. although, I am miserable and feeling down, because, of you no Longer being Around!! I can't continue to feel this way I would rather trade tears for a Rainy Day!!! B.R. Date: 12/12/2022

0

Aug 23, 2024

Aug 23, 2024 at 6:29 PM UTC

msbellepoetry44

🌧💔I will Trade Tears for Rain anyday💔🌧

I will trade tears for rain anyday, I didn't want to be with you anyway. since, you decided to go far away, I can't deal with this heartbreak for another day. although, I am miserable and feeling down, because, of you no Longer being Around!! I can't continue to feel this way I would rather trade tears for a Rainy Day!!! B.R. Date: 12/12/2022

17

She feels like she is in the center of it all Between the chaos and the peace she longs for The day when she can close her eyes and shut out the noise the days of joy that went past her as the minute hand races pass the hour we all hope would last a few minutes longer She filled with peace but in her peace there is so much pain I would know I listen to her when she decides to share her story Her story is not the story of a princess and the prince But I admire the determination cause once in a while she tell me that she too will eventually get her happy ending That the hell hole that she is currently facing will be a thing of the past She has a smile of the early morning sunrise In her story even when she seems beaten and bruised She still wants to fight She gets up every morning to a battle and goes to sleep in her armour I have to wonder if she sleeps most of her days But am only a visitor thanks to her Just like many others before It is only due to her kindness Even though others were quick to voice their opinion about how they would do if they were in her shoes I just do not think her story is for me to edit but to rather keep my thoughts to myself I listen

0

Apr 22, 2024

Apr 22, 2024 at 8:23 PM UTC

So_Average3

The woman with a candle

She feels like she is in the center of it all Between the chaos and the peace she longs for The day when she can close her eyes and shut out the noise the days of joy that went past her as the minute hand races pass the hour we all hope would last a few minutes longer She filled with peace but in her peace there is so much pain I would know I listen to her when she decides to share her story Her story is not the story of a princess and the prince But I admire the determination cause once in a while she tell me that she too will eventually get her happy ending That the hell hole that she is currently facing will be a thing of the past She has a smile of the early morning sunrise In her story even when she seems beaten and bruised She still wants to fight She gets up every morning to a battle and goes to sleep in her armour I have to wonder if she sleeps most of her days But am only a visitor thanks to her Just like many others before It is only due to her kindness Even though others were quick to voice their opinion about how they would do if they were in her shoes I just do not think her story is for me to edit but to rather keep my thoughts to myself I listen

19

I thought time healed most wounds, Yet my blood is red and pouring still. My heart is being forced with staples, To keep the smile I'm known for. I'd wish for any scenario, That involves our eyes locking. Whether loving, suffering, burning or screaming, I just want to see your face. I'd wish you said no, Then I could suffer easier. Instead I'm left with tears And consequences of our love.

0

May 29, 2023

May 29, 2023 at 7:49 AM UTC

louisa-coller

I'm Not Over It

I thought time healed most wounds, Yet my blood is red and pouring still. My heart is being forced with staples, To keep the smile I'm known for. I'd wish for any scenario, That involves our eyes locking. Whether loving, suffering, burning or screaming, I just want to see your face. I'd wish you said no, Then I could suffer easier. Instead I'm left with tears And consequences of our love.

12

A change in the weather A mirror with an unfamiliar reflection A winter without snow A sad song that plays on It isn't the life I wanted Clearly not how I imagined Rallies for joy replaced by hurt and sorrow How else could I see you Only time will tell My mind creates stories Beautiful memories I'd want to hold My eyes adore your every move Sadly that's all I can have Well you're you, am simply me Could I be infatuated I can't be this weak I fell in love with an imagination A vision I'd want to keep If wishes were true, I'd have you through thorns and ash Pick up the pieces Create all for mine I do want you But I know I can't have you Guess good things have you messed up And all you left with is wishing you could have it all back That's how scary it is when I think about falling for you.

0

Mar 12, 2023

Mar 12, 2023 at 11:34 PM UTC

namansa-james-joel

Confession

A change in the weather A mirror with an unfamiliar reflection A winter without snow A sad song that plays on It isn't the life I wanted Clearly not how I imagined Rallies for joy replaced by hurt and sorrow How else could I see you Only time will tell My mind creates stories Beautiful memories I'd want to hold My eyes adore your every move Sadly that's all I can have Well you're you, am simply me Could I be infatuated I can't be this weak I fell in love with an imagination A vision I'd want to keep If wishes were true, I'd have you through thorns and ash Pick up the pieces Create all for mine I do want you But I know I can't have you Guess good things have you messed up And all you left with is wishing you could have it all back That's how scary it is when I think about falling for you.

26

Why must you tear it from my hands- they have borne so much for you Do we all go to the same place? Foiling all our plans- does it mean that much to you? Do we all go to the same place? There is no sunlight in hell- that much I know is true And if we all go to the same place I will not go with you

0

Dec 12, 2021

Dec 12, 2021 at 11:07 PM UTC

cnm777

sunlight in hell

Why must you tear it from my hands- they have borne so much for you Do we all go to the same place? Foiling all our plans- does it mean that much to you? Do we all go to the same place? There is no sunlight in hell- that much I know is true And if we all go to the same place I will not go with you

15

When my angel died and went to heaven, A piece of me died, If i ever lose my mama I'll be gone for good, My mama is my heart, My angel was my better half, A child is all i have ever wanted, She can never be replaced, Even when i have a child one day, She can never be replaced, She's irreplaceable. My baby girl brought me joy, Baby girl gave me peace, Baby girl was a gift from heaven, She was so beautiful and precious, Each moment was so precious, God blessed us with a blessing. I still carry her in my heart, I can't forget about her and never will, Baby girl you will forever be remembered, Was her for a short amount of time, But in that small time it was beautiful, I miss you my baby.

0

Sep 4, 2021

Sep 4, 2021 at 5:02 PM UTC

gqjamesthapoet

She can never be replaced.

When my angel died and went to heaven, A piece of me died, If i ever lose my mama I'll be gone for good, My mama is my heart, My angel was my better half, A child is all i have ever wanted, She can never be replaced, Even when i have a child one day, She can never be replaced, She's irreplaceable. My baby girl brought me joy, Baby girl gave me peace, Baby girl was a gift from heaven, She was so beautiful and precious, Each moment was so precious, God blessed us with a blessing. I still carry her in my heart, I can't forget about her and never will, Baby girl you will forever be remembered, Was her for a short amount of time, But in that small time it was beautiful, I miss you my baby.

22

Have you ever watched someone look at themselves in the mirror? It's heartbreaking. They never see what you see. But that's why it's important for you to be there. To make them feel beautiful. Like someone cares.

0

Jun 12, 2021

Jun 12, 2021 at 8:15 PM UTC

zackripley

Make them feel beautiful

Have you ever watched someone look at themselves in the mirror? It's heartbreaking. They never see what you see. But that's why it's important for you to be there. To make them feel beautiful. Like someone cares.

7