"softhearted" poems
Dear the softhearted:
Sympathy won’t come.
Mourn this day
and drink its poison,
leave the ones disembodied
to haunt and garrotte.
Dear the kindhearted:
Forgiveness won’t come.
Stand thin, bloodless.
Who’s waiting at home for you?
May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 1:14 AM UTC
This year:
(for those with brave hearts)
I hope you find the strength to make your choices and fight for the life that you want.
I hope you look up from all your hard work and realize how much you've grown.
I hope you find yourself saved sometimes.
I hope you find time to get lost, in your head, in the wilderness, to explore forests, and gaze into rivers.
I hope you find your best self looking back at you. I hope you know you're always growing.
I hope you feel challenged.
I hope you never stop believing in the view from the top of the mountain.
I hope you get there. I hope you find it was worth it.
(for the softhearted)
I hope you find more time to laugh.
With your friends, at yourself, or at the world for ever thinking it could hurt you.
I hope you can take the pain and say "thank you."
i hope you realize it has only made you all the more good, all the more beautiful.
I hope you start looking less at the mirror, start believing more in who you are in other people's eyes, what you know you are in your heart.
I hope life gets sweeter, hope you wake up with your head in the clouds, your soul flying.
I hope you finally find what you're looking for.
I hope you find yourself smiling.
(for those with big hearts)
i hope you realize how important you are, how you make people feel appreciated and loved.
i hope you realize that the world wouldn't be the same if you weren't trying so hard to make it a better place.
i hope the world tucks you into bed, proud of its little soldier.
i hope you appreciate yourself for your efforts.
i hope you never get tired of being a champion of the things people say no longer exist - so much kindness, goodness, love, peace.
i hope that you find fulfillment in the little things because sometimes, that's all we get.
little things like knowing you made someone smile, or that the people you love are doing fine, doing better.
i hope you realize that's all you need.
i hope your heart is proud of itself.
i hope the love that burns in you always keeps you warm.
(for the fainthearted)
I hope you realize there's so much more to your life than you thought there was.
I hope you find moments that make your breath catch, a million things to marvel at.
I hope life surprises you. I hope you surprise yourself.
I hope you find your horizons expanding, and see that it's not as bad as you thought.
I hope your dreams take you places; I hope you travel paths that you never knew existed, but where you feel you belong.
I hope you discover your longings, what your heart would sing for, what you didn't know you wanted all along.
I hope you get up and chase it.
Dec 28, 2016
Dec 28, 2016 at 10:28 AM UTC
Dear the softhearted:
Sympathy won’t come.
Mourn this day
and drink its poison,
leave the ones disembodied
to haunt and garrotte.
Dear the kindhearted:
Forgiveness won’t come.
Stand thin, bloodless.
Who’s waiting at home for you?
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 11:10 PM UTC
"bleed·ing heart"
a person considered to be dangerously softhearted
feeling sorry for everything and everyone and giving in to emotions quickly.
“My heart bled today.”
Nothing new, same old routine, same old unremarkable usual thing.
They say over and over, Repetition is key. The key for what, I may never know.
Things often moving quickly halt and take on the slow.
The same people, the same faces, the same air, the same places.
I’m a person with a bleeding heart.
It’s dangerous to lead a life like mine,
Sadly you can’t escape the family bloodline.
Constantly stuck in a place between the planes.
I can’t help what’s running wild, pumping through my veins.
No rest for me. The others are already gone.
My logic quickly left along with the dawn.
My bleeding heart might just be the death of me.
I would show you I am hurting but we can’t seem to agree
I am all alone surrounded by nothing but my own suffocating thoughts.
I can’t breathe and continue to find myself at a loss.
A new beginning. The strong will live, the weak will die.
It’s tattooed into the minds of the people in the city as a nearby excuse for people like me.
Yes, there are others, but they are far out of reach, conveniently unavailable.
The rest of us have been wiped out and deemed unfavorable.
What am I?
Just an unnoticed vessel of the human soul
and all of it’s dangerously soft-hearted mannerisms.
I have a bleeding heart. I do not deny.
Left alone for the beasts to tear apart.
But I cannot help but look to the sky.
I despise my nature, my being even,
Curse my benignant soul,
And my lack of self control
What’s left for me in this cruel world?
Run by unintellectual imbeciles running off their own flawed reasoning
A divergent past, lies in ruins which was once filled with memories and happy experiences,
I was once just a kid lost in her own place, drowning and begging for help but no one came.
Perhaps, I’m not as much of a person with a bleeding heart as I possibly could be.
Perhaps, the legacy I leave behind will be nothing but a life of running away.
Perhaps my bleeding heart only bleeds in contrast to the reality around me.
“Because it is mine, it will always bleed”.
I am stuck in this life of heartache and unwelcome spilled blood, but it will be alright.
Because I won’t give up, not until I succeed.
I will make it one day, even if there is no destination, I’ll go just to see the sights.
Bleeding heart and all, I will fight the war, not backing down, but disappearing at midnight.
Mar 12, 2018
Mar 12, 2018 at 2:56 AM UTC
Sitting in a stuffy blue room with my counselor,
she speaks quiet words
to guide me to be gentle with myself
explaining that my feelings are heavy things,
I hear my fathers voice float through the air
from the time I was a child,
speaking for me to stay softhearted
as I tried to hide my tears with my baby blanket.
I suppose I am still learning.
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 11:23 PM UTC
I am but only a lowly feather
Drifting through life, caught by the wind
Searching for love
That simple affection
I am but a dove
Fragile and weak
Softhearted, kind spirit
One day it will be seen
I am but a swan
Graceful and sweet
I give it my all
My every heart beat
I am but a hummingbird
Large heart beats fast
Looking for love
To numb the pain of the past
He was but only a lonely human
Drifting through life, caught by the lust
Searching for games
Girls to play
He was but a wolf
Looking for sheep
Preying on innocence
Until he would bite too deep
He was but a bear
Liked to eat
Would ask them to cook
So he could sleep
He was but a chameleon
Blending in with each
Making them feel safe
Like the connection was deep
He was but a lion
I was but a lamb
I fell in love with the lion
He fell in love with the lamb
But he bit me
And as I bled
He couldn’t believe what he had did
I confessed my love
He didn’t walk away
But after I died
He found his new game
Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 1:13 PM UTC
A woman's heart is a deep ocean of secrets.
She cries floods of tears and confronts her fears,
Yet she's labelled weak.
Weak, because she cries - or because she lies?
Because she actually cares or because she's just softhearted?
Yet - a woman is strong - if she cries
She portrays her emotions. She doesn't hold back.
Yet - when she's silent or doesn't show emotion -
She's weak.
Too weak to let out the pain? Or too strong to hold it in?
(To be continued)
Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 11:02 AM UTC
The definition of "Bleeding Heart"
is "dangerously softhearted."
I recoil, then nod.
It is dangerous to care so much.
My heart will crush itself
under the burdens it takes on--
Fold like tinfoil, till it has turned into nothing
but a hard silver ball,
I cast into the kitchen garbage.
Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 12:16 PM UTC
The dense forests and ragged hills were still on this eve,
Their inhabitants silent as the chill north-wind blew in,
This coming torrent would be a force all would receive,
This frigid embrace would soak all bark, fur, and skin.
Trees crying as their limbs tore, whipping to and fro,
The woodland creatures scurrying back to their holes,
Great flashes of lightning would illuminate the high plateaus,
Blossoms blown away to the darkness, howling winds claiming souls.
Firm and resolute earth turned softhearted and weak,
The downpour snuffing out every disparaging notion,
Quickly doing away with the timid and meek,
It caressed all equally in these ceaseless motions.
She tore lightning across the canopy of Earth,
Flames leaping to life, only to be snuffed out a moment later,
This cycle endlessly repeating, death and birth,
Until we all felt the shadow of this savage conciliator.
Bis wir alle von diesem grausamen Schlichter bedeckt waren.
Nov 15, 2017
Nov 15, 2017 at 8:10 AM UTC
I hate how you sit out on the dock in the late afternoon sun
with your canvass and paints. Stretching me and pulling me
for nothing but the pleasure of your latest muse. I hate
that you get to talk to the strangers fishing down the way
and the only people I have are the wooden planks you push me into.
And believe me they are horrible conversationalists.
You run after butterflies to match your paint to their wings
and softhearted blades of grass try to dry my tears. Darling,
I love you, I hate you, I love you but i don't love you anymore.
You get to live your life and manipulate me however you wish.
Only next time we play this little game of ours
you'll be my shadow
and I'll be your
master
Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 9:51 AM UTC
She was a sucker
For a sob story
And he had the best
She had heard in years.
Wife dying, his three
Kids taken off in
To care because he
Couldn’t cope, the *****
Addled him for a
Couple of years or
More, his mother cut
Him off and out and
Gave all her money
And the one Monet
To his big business
Brother and his young
Sister slit her wrists
In the bath and no
One found her until
The flies buzzed against
The bathroom window.
She was, they said, a
Softhearted woman,
She knew that, her ex
Told her she was a
Life raft for the bum’s
Drowning and that one
Day some bum’d take
Her down and drown her
Too. Stay the night, she
Said, and he looked glad
She had said that and
While he was in the
John doing what he
Must, she began to
Undress, taking her
Time, letting the flesh
Be slowly revealed,
Feeling the cool air
Touch her back, wanting
It to be an act
Of love not lust, a
Means to save a soul,
Not wallow in the
****** swamp of
Two bodies hotly
Connecting. She was
In bed naked when
He finally came
Out of the john; him
Looking lean, limp and
White with nothing on.
Only need a hug,
He said, nothing too
Deep or involved or
Emotionally
Exhausting, just your
Warm body and your
Breath on my ear and
Your soft whispered words,
My dear. They all say
That of course, she mused,
Watching him enter
The bed with his limp
***** and messed up
Head. She’d work on him,
Give him the hugs and
Soft words and be a
Good listener to
His sad tales and his
Self-pitying muck,
Waiting for him to
Flower for his soul
Saving, all night ****
Mar 7, 2016
Mar 7, 2016 at 2:08 AM UTC
outside is cold
while the tears rising
from the bottom of his heart
are boiling hot
so the softhearted man
keeps them rolling and rolling
inside his eye sockets
Sep 14, 2016
Sep 14, 2016 at 5:25 PM UTC
They stand still, dangling their heads in mid air, as
if bent over by curiosity, catching the eyes of
bystanders as they plant their roots and intertwine
their bodies under a dim lit sun
Their arms lightly touch along the spines of one
another, grabbing second glances as they kiss gently
from tip to tips—shifting earth's gravitational grip—
slipping sensual aromas into the timid crowds,
stealing attention
They caress with their fingers anyone who draws
nearer and nearer, collecting corroded
notions—creating, blending, coalescing and
infusing carnal spirits—for those who fail to ignore
what lurks before them; they splitting minutes
of the mind divided
and
across
from
them
is
a
shy melancholy rose. softhearted,
cordial, dancing alone.
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 3:59 PM UTC
I hate how you sit out on the dock in the late afternoon sun
with your canvass and paints. Stretching me and pulling me
for nothing but the pleasure of your latest muse. I hate
that you get to talk to the strangers fishing down the way
and the only people I have are the wooden planks you push me into.
And believe me they are horrible conversationalists.
You run after butterflies to match your paint to their wings
and softhearted blades of grass try to dry my tears. Darling,
I love you, I hate you, I love you but i don't love you anymore.
You get to live your life and manipulate me however you wish.
Only next time we play this little game of ours
you'll be my shadow
and I'll be your
master
Mar 28, 2018
Mar 28, 2018 at 2:23 PM UTC
Why'd you come in here lookin' like that
In your cowboy boots and your painted on jeans
All decked out like a cowgirl's dream
Why'd you come in here looking like that
Here comes my baby
Draggin' my heart behind
He's drivin' me crazy
Who says love is blind
He's got a wanderin' eye and a travelin' mind
Big ideas and a little behind
Out with a different woman every night
But I remember when he was mine
Why'd you come in here lookin' like that
In your high heel boots and your painted on jeans
All decked out like a cowgirl's dream
Waltzing right in here lookin' like that
Why'd you come in here lookin' like that
When you could stop traffic in a gunny sack
Why you're almost givin' me a heart attack
When you waltz right in here lookin' like that
I just can't stand it
To see him on the town
He's out slow dancing
With every girl around
I'm a softhearted woman he's a hardheaded man
And he's gonna make me feel just as bad as he can
He's got himself a mean streak a half a mile wide
Now he's dancing on this heart of mine
Ooh, Why'd you come in here lookin' like that
In your high heel boots and your painted on jeans
All decked out like a cowgirl's dream
Why'd you come in here lookin' like that
Why'd you come in here lookin' like that
In your cowboy boots and your painted on jeans
All decked out like a cowgirl's dream
Why'd you come in here lookin' like that
Aug 25, 2023
Aug 25, 2023 at 6:32 PM UTC
when a softhearted girl with an arrhythmia cries a lot— she is hurt.
Apr 28, 2025
Apr 28, 2025 at 6:51 AM UTC