heartbreak

They can break your heart, but they can't break your soul; poetry about lost love that comforts and uplifts.

Broken-Hearted
Why is it that love is so hard to find? When it is always right under our noses? So I ask you this, 'cause I'm in a bind,
By Visionary Ghostwriter8 years ago in Poets
Promises
Will things ever be easy? Or will I be left to continuously hurt? I want your arms to always wrap around me Will my dream of us last forever?
By Visionary Ghostwriter8 years ago in Poets
You
You were sweet, You told me what I wanted to hear. You climbed the walls I built. You made me love you, But hate myself.
By Kelsie Williams8 years ago in Poets
Uncommon, Abandonment
You are memorable, because you were different. Past tense. I am forgettable because I am the same. Present. …hardly a gift but current nonetheless.
By Linxi Van Romanovski8 years ago in Poets
Looking Back
i regret the days i didn’t want to spend with you because i was busy or stress had taken over my body once again i should have kissed you that night
By Hannah .8 years ago in Poets
Cut
Brown, deep eyes Sharp like a knife. With a smile so bright Like the pearly white Left me with With blood dripping down
By Gabriela Linares8 years ago in Poets
Don't Come Looking for Me
Don’t come searching for me When you realize that I am where I want to be Please don’t ask of me You see the version of me that best suits you...
By Timesha Conyers8 years ago in Poets
To the Lost Boy Who Ran Away
A long time ago I presented to you my dreams on a plate and called it 'Dinner,' We shared our table with many a lost soul,
By Bridget Meier8 years ago in Poets
Forgiven
I am strong. I don't mean lift a hundred pounds strong, I mean I have picked up my own shattered pieces and put myself back together strong.
By Miranda Brewer8 years ago in Poets
Storms
Whenever a storm approaches I think of you And pull out that old picture That I keep close to my heart The edges are weathered and torn
By Samantha Reed8 years ago in Poets
Her Favorite Place
Her favorite place Was one so soft, yet gray Her favorite place could converse of her story with the wind by the sea, Her favorite place was so familiar and forgiving..
By Antique Gothique8 years ago in Poets
A Weed
You are a stinging bee, flying from flower to flower. None were quite right until you found me, a dandelion. Intrigued by my unique form, you landed. Trying to collect my pollen, I am just a weed I have none, but still you continued to poke and bite, until you blew away all of my seeds, wishing for control. Your violent prodding tore me apart, but what was I to do? I am just a dandelion. I cannot move. I just let it happen. For 2 whole years I let you sting me, it gets harder and harder to cover my stem and my seeds and my leaves. Everyone was convinced that I was a flower, perfect for the bee, but it wasn't until I stung back that I told the garden that I am a weed infecting your lovely patch you call romance. I am a dandelion, a bee has no use for me and I have no need for the bee.
By Jacqueline Schroth8 years ago in Poets