heartbreak
They can break your heart, but they can't break your soul; poetry about lost love that comforts and uplifts.
Complete
It only takes a moment to feel completeIt's when you see your favorite person smileand that makes your heart go all warm and fuzzyand brings a smile to your face too.You just know, that you care for this personlike never beforeand that you will do whatever it takesto keep that smile on their face,Continue holding their handevery time you are out for an evening stroll,hug them before you leavewhisper something silly in their earand make them grin from ear to earComplete their sentencesand give them exactly what they needbefore they have had the chance to say it.Their happiness is infinitebut the power to make them happy lies with you.The gift of feeling completeis in your handsEmbrace it by expressing true love.
By Sidhant Sharma8 years ago in Poets
Concrete Love
You told her she was beautiful on the first day y'all met, gave her the impression that she was someone so different from the rest. Build her up to feel butterflies every time she's around you, not knowing you were building her up to love nothing but the image you created to be. You gave her enough love to be affected but not enough love to feel what she gave you ...you feed her soul with damaged love and fake memories. Stealing her oxygen she thought you gave her. Leaving her dry with the heart that's bleeding hurt and disloyalty. Now she's filled with the memories where her heart once been.
By Tia Cheyenne8 years ago in Poets
A 2 A.M. Poem
You left two cigarettes at my house but two cigarettes is all it takes to start an addiction and it's an addiction I'll always hate but on you... it looked hella great. You wore the smoke like cologne and the smell was enough to make me choke and you apologized for it. You apologized but never quit and eventually I became used to it. I started to like the stench or maybe it was an acquired smell but when it finally became home, so did you. You were two a.m. cookies and 10 minute back rubs when work was wearing me down. You were slow dancing while breakfast was cooking and you were the sturdy arms that held me when my depression was more than I could handle and when your hands wiped away the tears that poured from my eyes, it was enough to break the camel's back. You were the feather that broke me. All of my walls collapsed. But when they collapsed it was a free-for-all barren wasteland full of arguments and thrown shoes all over the ground. My home now contained a stranger I had believed to be my lover. My home was a damaged one to begin with but when you left, depression and loneliness and rubble was all I had to call mine. Those cigarettes weren't mine. They were the memory of you and I never wanted to relive that memory again but without the butterflies you used to give me, my insides felt so empty. I struck up the lighter that I used to burn our bridges and lit up the stick of cancer you left and the first huff was like I was breathing in the lighter itself. The smoke burned my lungs and brought back the smell of you and by the time I lit number two, I realized I was addicted. Not to the taste of cigarettes, not to the toxins filling my lungs with every huff. I realized I was addicted to the smell of smoke and the taste of ash on your tongue but if smoking these cigarettes is the closest I can get to you, then I guess lung cancer doesn't seem so bad.
By Trisha Kirby8 years ago in Poets
