The end of a relationship doesn’t necessarily include betrayal and big blowups. Sometimes, a relationship reaches a quiet conclusion, which can be even more painful than a messy split. People move away, change their priorities, find new careers, and — on the path to finding themselves — they may find their partner doesn’t fit into the equation.
Heartbreak love poems will make you cry, but they will also make you contemplate love in a way that can be very rewarding. A touching heartbreak poem will make you feel empathetic, less alone and more aware of the fact that no one’s experience of this world is all rainbows and unicorns. We all have to trudge through the darker aspects of existence.
Read these broken heart poems because they’re beautiful and because they can soothe your soul and heal your heart with deep empathy. Let’s enjoy 100 heartbreak poems that make you cry bellow — the most devastating love poems about heartbreak. Hope you have beautiful moments with healing poems for heartbreak on Rhymings.Com! All is the best!
Unto a broken heartUnto A Broken Heart © Emily Dickinson
No other one may go
Without the high prerogative
Itself hath suffered too.
“Hearts can break. Yes, hearts can break. Sometimes I think it would be better if we died when they did, but we don’t.”Stephen King
1, After Love © Sara Teasdale
There is no magic any more,
We meet as other people do,
You work no miracle for me
Nor I for you.
You were the wind and I the sea—
There is no splendor any more,
I have grown listless as the pool
Beside the shore.
But though the pool is safe from storm
And from the tide has found surcease,
It grows more bitter than the sea,
For all its peace.
2, A Broken Heart © Jenna
How do I mend a broken heart?
My entire world has fallen apart.
How do I find hope in a brand new day,
when the one I love has gone away?
My mind overflows with memories of you,
of all that we’ve shared, all that we knew.
I long for your touch and your warm embrace,
the look in your eyes, the smile on your face.
My dreams are filled with your soft gentle kiss.
I wake and cry for all that I miss.
How do I mend a broken heart,
when my one true love and I are apart?
My heart knows to love only you, it won’t let go, what do I do?
Our moments together were precious and few,
but I cherished them all more than you knew.
I love you, my angel, and always will.
I loved you then and I love you still.
Someone will walk into your life,
Leave a footprint on your heart,
Turn it into a mudroom cluttered
With encrusted boots, children’s mittens,
Where you linger to unwrap
Or ready yourself for rough exits
Into howling gales or onto
Frozen car seats, expulsions
Into the great outdoors where touch
Is muffled, noses glisten,
And breaths stab,
So that when you meet someone
Who is leaving your life
You will be able to wave stiff
Icy mitts and look forward
To an evening in spring
When you can fold winter away
Until your next encounter with
A chill so numbing you strew
The heart’s antechamber
With layers of rural garble.
4, I Tried So Hard © Whitney Barton
I tried so hard.
I tried my best.
I gave you my all,
And now there’s nothing left.
You stole my heart
Then tore it in two.
Now I’m falling apart
And don’t know what to do.
Divided by decisions,
Burned by the fire,
Confused by your words,
Tempted by desire.
I’m living in the present.
My mind is on the past.
Not knowing what I’ll lose,
Not knowing what will last.
Blinded by fear,
Drowning in doubt,
Struggling to be free,
Looking for a way out.
5, One Art © Elizabeth Bishop
The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.
Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.
—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident
the art of losing’s not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.
6, Do You Know © Michelle Boyd
Do you know a life of loneliness and one filled with pain,
living a life with nothing to gain,
Surrounded by darkness, overwhelmed with shame.
A life without peace with no one to blame.
Do you know of a place unseen,
A place that holds only shattered dreams,
A place filled with sorrow with no end in sight,
I am given this gift each and every night.
Do you know of a place so cold,
This is the place I call my soul,
A place without hope or comforting dreams,
A life not worth living wouldn’t it seem.
Do you know of a life that should have never been,
And the feeling that today this life has to end.
One more day of sadness is much too hard to bear,
I am tired of living a life of heartache and despair.
Do you know a person with so much pain inside,
Or the feeling of loneliness when no one hears your cries,
Maybe when the tears are gone and I can clearly see,
The only question left will be…
DO YOU KNOW ME
7, Wait © Galway Kinnell
Wait, for now.
Distrust everything, if you have to.
But trust the hours. Haven’t they
carried you everywhere, up to now?
Personal events will become interesting again.
Hair will become interesting.
Pain will become interesting.
Buds that open out of season will become lovely again.
Second-hand gloves will become lovely again,
their memories are what give them
the need for other hands. And the desolation
of lovers is the same: that enormous emptiness
carved out of such tiny beings as we are
asks to be filled; the need
for the new love is faithfulness to the old.
Don’t go too early.
You’re tired. But everyone’s tired.
But no one is tired enough.
Only wait a while and listen.
Music of hair,
Music of pain,
music of looms weaving all our loves again.
Be there to hear it, it will be the only time,
most of all to hear,
the flute of your whole existence,
rehearsed by the sorrows, play itself into total exhaustion.
8, He’ll Never Know © Jennifer
I want to run, I want to hide
From all the pain he caused inside.
I want to scream, I want to cry.
Why can’t I tell him goodbye?
I want to move on; I just can’t let go.
I love him more than he will ever know.
I want to start over, I want to feel free!
But this pain will never leave me be.
He hurt me bad; the pain is deep
From all the promises he couldn’t keep.
All the lies I heard him say
Are in my head and just won’t fade.
How can I forget him, leave him behind?
Erase the memories from my mind?
He doesn’t love me, and he never will.
He will never care how I feel.
I reached up into the top of the closet
and took out a pair of blue panties
and showed them to her and
asked “are these yours?”
and she looked and said,
“no, those belong to a dog.”
she left after that and I haven’t seen
her since. she’s not at her place.
I keep going there, leaving notes stuck
into the door. I go back and the notes
are still there. I take the Maltese cross
cut it down from my car mirror, tie it
to her doorknob with a shoelace, leave
a book of poems.
when I go back the next night everything
is still there.
I keep searching the streets for that
blood-wine battleship she drives
with a weak battery, and the doors
hanging from broken hinges.
I drive around the streets
an inch away from weeping,
ashamed of my sentimentality and
a confused old man driving in the rain
wondering where the good luck
10, What’s Next? © Amanda
I lie awake tonight,
Wishing of things I can change.
I try to convince myself,
But it’s all so strange.
Is it me,
Or is it you?
Do I try,
Or are we through?
So long we’ve shared
Just to walk away.
But so much hurt
To want to stay.
Why do we do this,
Try to hurt the other more,
Only to watch one
Walk right out the door?
I love you so much,
Yet I push you to the point of breaking,
But why do you play with my heart
And never stop taking?
Is this the end
Or a new beginning?
Only one can guide me
When my head is spinning.
That is what plays
Over in my head
As I try to close my eyes
And just go to bed.
You are tired,
Of the always puzzle of living and doing;
And so am I.
Come with me, then,
And we’ll leave it far and far away —
(Only you and I, understand!)
You have played,
And broke the toys you were fondest of,
And are a little tired now;
Tired of things that break, and —
So am I.
But I come with a dream in my eyes tonight,
And knock with a rose at the hopeless gate of your heart —
Open to me!
For I will show you the places Nobody knows,
And, if you like,
The perfect places of Sleep.
Ah, come with me!
I’ll blow you that wonderful bubble, the moon,
That floats forever and a day;
I’ll sing you the jacinth song
Of the probable stars;
I will attempt the unstartled steppes of dream,
Until I find the Only Flower,
Which shall keep (I think) your little heart
While the moon comes out of the sea.
12, Ode To You © Carl Sinclair
Every morning I see your face,
And for that fleeting second I’m in a different place,
A place where we smiled, laughed, and talked,
A place where we could hold hands wherever we walked,
I’m reminded of this each and every day.
Then the sleep clears and it’s all blown away.
Realization sets in and I’m all alone.
I quickly have to check my phone
In case you’ve called or sent me a text.
Then it hits harder as what come next
Is the empty screen with your smiling face
And the emptiness of this forsaken place.
I wither up inside as all my hopes disappear
And the burn in my heart really starts to sear.
I sink back in my bed and think of you
And wonder if there’s anything I can do.
I’m knocked back every time I try to get through,
And now the decision is up to you.
Leave me out here in the cold and the rain,
Leave me to choke on the tears and the pain,
Missing you every minute of every day,
Loving you more and more in my way.
One day, my love, this will all be like a dream.
I just hope we can dream it together in our place so serene.
Looking up at the stars, I know quite well
That, for all they care, I can go to hell,
But on earth indifference is the least
We have to dread from man or beast.
How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.
Admirer as I think I am
Of stars that do not give a damn,
I cannot, now I see them, say
I missed one terribly all day.
Were all stars to disappear or die,
I should learn to look at an empty sky
And feel its total dark sublime,
Though this might take me a little time.
14, Hollow © Fathimath L. Ahmed
Do you feel them?
She was numb and frozen,
Yet it dimly sparkled like a dying gem.
Do you know what that feels like?
Hollers of agonizing cries.
She had nothing left inside.
She was a hollow shell.
Into an endless oblivion she fell,
Pitch black and nearly brain dead.
There was nothing in her life ahead.
Why is it so strong?
She was deprived from it.
Devils had done her heart way too many wrongs.
Killed was the lust,
Lost was the temptation.
Why is it so painful?
Once crystal clear and beautiful,
Now a turned poison from what was as pure as golden dust.
She wanted nothing to do with it.
Not long ago it had made her bleed.
On her skin that burned.
She was a hollow shell.
Into an endless oblivion she fell.
Pitch black and nearly brain dead.
There was nothing in her life ahead.
Standing in front of a mirror,
Watching as she wholly became hollow.
Near the entrance, a patch of tall grass.
Near the tall grass, long-stemmed plants;
each bending an ear-shaped cone
to the pond’s surface. If you looked closely,
you could make out silvery koi
swishing toward the clouded pond’s edge
where a boy tugs at his mother’s shirt for a quarter.
To buy fish feed. And watching that boy,
as he knelt down to let the koi kiss his palms,
I missed what it was to be so dumb
as those koi. I like to think they’re pure,
that that’s why even after the boy’s palms were empty,
after he had nothing else to give, they still kissed
his hands. Because who hasn’t done that—
loved so intently even after everything
has gone? Loved something that has washed
its hands of you? I like to think I’m different now,
that I’m enlightened somehow,
but who am I kidding? I know I’m like those koi,
still, with their popping mouths, that would kiss
those hands again if given the chance. So dumb.
16, Heartbreak © Lucifera Santez
If my heart would have been page,
It would burn to ashes right now,
If my love would have been cage,
You would have died from too much affection,
Burning my heart in your hands,
Baby you laughed when you saw my face,
I pleaded and begged,
You said I wasn’t worth your wait,
So why go now and break my heart?
When you had the chance in the very start,
Your one hateful look,
Would have killed my hopes,
Why raise them high, feast on my misery,
When you knew I couldn’t cope,
So many buried dreams,
So many beautiful lies
Perhaps fooling me had been too easy,
Was it all a lesson aimed to teach?
Or just a brief respites need,
So much going through me,
But I have got nothing left to say,
Had you aimed to steal my soul?
Or fashion an empty human shell at its make,
Didn’t knew you were so cruel,
That you enjoyed my heartbreak…
You ever wake up with your footie PJs warming
your neck like a noose? Ever upchuck
after a home-cooked meal? Or notice
how the blood on the bottoms of your feet
just won’t seem to go away? Love, it used to be
you could retire your toothbrush for like two or three days and still
I’d push my downy face into your neck. Used to be
I hung on your every word. (Sing! you’d say: and I was a bird.
Freedom! you’d say: and I never really knew what that meant,
but liked the way it rang like a rusty bell.) Used to be. But now
I can tell you your breath stinks and you’re full of shit.
You have more lies about yourself than bodies
beneath your bed. Rooting
for the underdog. Team player. Hook,
line and sinker. Love, you helped design the brick
that built the walls around the castle
in the basement of which is a vault
inside of which is another vault
inside of which . . . you get my point. Your tongue
is made of honey but flicks like a snake’s. Voice
like a bird but everyone’s ears are bleeding.
From the inside your house shines
and shines, but from outside you can see
it’s built from bones. From out here it looks
like a graveyard, and the garden’s
all ash. And besides,
your breath stinks. We’re through.
18, The Siren © YoungPoet
He wrote her a song, but it never got finished
They both fell in love, but it was soon diminished
She sits on his bed and cries in his lap
He cries back at her, knowing they can’t go back.
Hours go by and neither one can accept
That by letting go they are doing what’s best
At the end of the day, comes the part which he fears
To let her go without shedding a tear
Never again will he kiss her goodbye
And just that thought makes him start to cry
Now he’ll finish that song, and he’ll write it today
This is the start and here’s what it says
“You are my siren, you drew me in
With a voice like an angel and the softest skin
Your eyes shine like diamonds and your smile melts my heart
I know that nothing could tear us apart”
That’s what he wrote and let me just say
That he’d never do anything to throw that away
But that’s not how it works; this world’s bitter and harsh
And then something happened, which drew them apart
An old boyfriend showed up and that’s when he knew
That her feelings for him were not shiny and new
This person left her and crushed her heart
But she had loved him since the very start.
When our boy came along she saw a way
To end her pain and make it all go away
But by loving this person through thick and through thin
She looked at our boy and wished it was him
Now this is where the second verse starts
It’s about how she seemed to break his heart
He found out her feelings, it went straight to his head
So he carried on writing and here’s what he said
“You make me smile when no one else can
It just makes me happy to be your man
But it hurts me deeply that you long for his heart
I thought we would last, but this breaks us apart”
He sat in his room and just wished he
Could be just like her ex so that they could be
But as long as he was there they could never be true
So he’d sit in his room feeling sad and blue
Now comes the part where she’s crying in his lap
They both just decided to never go back
The pain is immense but it’s saving his heart
Because staying with her would rip him apart
Here’s where he decides to finish the song
The story of how it all went wrong
He starts the last verse with tears dripping off his nose
The papers all wet but here’s how it goes.
“You were my siren, you drew me in
You taught me to love and you taught me to sin
I never thought you could break my heart
But I guess we were wrong right from the start”
“You were my siren, now I’m dead at sea
You drew me in, but you didn’t want me
I just wish I knew where it all went wrong
But now another lost sailor can hear your song.”
You entered the bedroom and fell to your knees.
I wait the rest of my life to hear you say, I made a mistake.
Inside my chest, a mangle.
Inside yours, a deflating balloon.
You took the vacuum cleaner, the ironing board, the dish rack
and left me some lint, an iron to scorch shirts, one chipped plate.
I would like to say at least we perfected
entrances and exits, like professional stage actors
honing their craft, but even that’s a fantasy.
Mostly on TV the lions ate the hyenas
but sometimes the hyenas
formed a posse, and tore a lion up.
Occasionally you came in out of the rain
and I was glad to have you.
20, The Fist © Derek Walcott
The fist clenched round my heart
loosens a little, and I gasp
brightness; but it tightens
again. When have I ever not loved
the pain of love? But this has moved
past love to mania. This has the strong
clench of the madman, this is
gripping the ledge of unreason, before
plunging howling into the abyss.
Hold hard then, heart. This way at least you live.
21, I Don’t Sleep Because Of You © Carlie
I don’t go to sleep at night
because you haunt my dreams,
and waking up to find you’re not here
is harder than it seems.
See, I’d rather stay awake at night
because one thing I know is true,
that without my dreams of us,
I’ll never be with you.
So I don’t close my eyes at night,
and I don’t go to sleep,
because if I do,
I’d have to admit defeat.
So why don’t you try living
where you can’t face your dreams,
where every minute gets harder?
well, that’s the way it feels,
and it’s not that I can’t sleep,
because that I can do,
but if I close my eyes at night
then I am with you,
and you may think that’s what I want.
And to point you would be true,
but the reason I don’t sleep at night
is all down to you.
I’d happily dream about you all day long
Because in my dreams you care.
It’s the waking up without you
That I cannot bear.
you are a horse running alone
and he tries to tame you
compares you to an impossible highway
to a burning house
says you are blinding him
that he could never leave you
want anything but you
you dizzy him, you are unbearable
every woman before or after you
is doused in your name
you fill his mouth
his teeth ache with memory of taste
his body just a long shadow seeking yours
but you are always too intense
frightening in the way you want him
unashamed and sacrificial
he tells you that no man can live up to the one who
lives in your head
and you tried to change didn’t you?
closed your mouth more
tried to be softer
less volatile, less awake
but even when sleeping you could feel
him travelling away from you in his dreams
so what did you want to do, love
split his head open?
you can’t make homes out of human beings
someone should have already told you that
and if he wants to leave
then let him leave
you are terrifying
and strange and beautiful
something not everyone knows how to love.
Turning to watch you leave,
I see we must always walk toward
other rooms, river of heaven
between two office buildings.
Orphaned cloud, cioppino poppling,
book spined in the open palm. Unstoppable light.
I think it is all right.
Or do tonight, garden toad
a speaking stone,
young sound in an old heart.
Annul the self? I float it,
a day lily in my wine. Oblivion?
I love our lives,
keeping me from it.
24, Can’t Let Go Of You, Don’t Want To © Amy Lorraine Bridges
Today doesn’t seem real,
That might be because today I can’t feel.
I can’t feel the sun, moon, or stars,
I miss the love that used to be ours.
I wish you were here,
‘Cause now in my mind your face is no longer clear,
The memories of you are almost lost.
My love and trust I have already tossed,
So when you leave,
Please promise me this time you will just let me be.
Let me be me and only me.
You always come back to haunt me, follow me everywhere,
But this time, my life no longer will I share.
Forgetting you is something I will never be able to do.
Even though I say I hate you, you know it’s because I love you.
Let me know you can’t forget me either,
When you do, I’ll know it’s true because you’re not a people pleaser.
I pray and pray to be able to let you go,
But there’s just something about you,
What? I don’t know.
When I’m with you I feel like I’m flying,
Now all I’m doing is crying.
I’m hurt and numb.
Without you now I feel so lost and dumb,
What you did to me and put me through hurt so bad.
Your love used to make me happy,
Now it makes me cold, hurt, and sad.
Every night I go to bed clutching my pillow pretending someone loves me.
I’m stuck; there’s nowhere I can run to or flee.
I have no choice; I have to keep walking on,
Like new legs on a baby fawn.
One day, someday, I’ll be free,
Free to run and walk and be fine being a lonely me.
It’s no use walking the beasts of my longing without you, compañero,
you whose name means stone the sun
moves across. Remember our house, and the statuary of clouds
drifting through the rooms? And the sheets and blankets of our habits,
and ourselves two hounds lying down. We loved
like we fought, slugging our way toward each other,
sending up flares to announce our advance. And when our city
burned, we stood in the ashes, and admired each other’s
bodies. Now I ask you: how will we manage
without the steadiness of our long unhappiness?
Can you say you don’t miss our furious
putting up with each other? The silver waves
go on polishing themselves. The sun goes down
alone. Tell me: is this
as it should be? My body goes on
without you burnishing its crevices. Without
your faults, there is no salt. I will not again be fat.
Even my hair will abandon me, like a woman walking away
until you can’t see her. So what
if I’m given other dawns? I ache
for the grandeur of uproar. Light
brings on its armadas of taxis and butterflies,
and I’m forced to go into the street
and talk to agreeable strangers.
26, A Memory © Lola Ridge
The crackle of the palm trees
Over the mooned white roofs of the town…
The shining town…
And the tender fumbling of the surf
On the sulphur-yellow beaches
As we sat…a little apart…in the close-pressing night.
The moon hung above us like a golden mango,
And the moist air clung to our faces,
Warm and fragrant as the open mouth of a child
And we watched the out-flung sea
Rolling to the purple edge of the world,
Yet ever back upon itself…
And mooned white memory
Of a tropic sea…
How softly it comes up
Like an ungathered lily.
27, Bottom Of My Heart © Efi
Don’t talk anymore, my love
Just look at me
and you will understand
how I feel.
Look deep in my eyes
and you’ll see your name,
my soul’s broken mirror.
I love you more than you believe,
like you are my life,
my other half,
my subconscious guardian angel.
Look around you,
has anyone loved you more than I do?
Never cry, my love
’cause you’ll make me bleed.
Always be happy
’cause your smile is a source of life for me.
I breathe when you breathe.
But forgive me
for what I say.
I know you feel nothing.
For you, I’m just a silly game
that you played with once
and now you hate
even to look at.
I’m sorry for my feelings
I know they drown you,
they don’t set you free.
Come and tell me you hate me,
that there’s no other chance,
no fake hope.
Don’t show me, but tell me.
And then I will leave
I swear I will leave you,
my endless pain.
It’s not your fault,
I can’t blame you;
it’s me who loves you.
Tell me your truth
and you’ll never see your name in my eyes again,
’cause I’ll keep our past and my love
in the bottom of my heart
and I’ll be gone…
28, Resignation © Nikki Giovanni
I love you
because the Earth turns round the sun
because the North wind blows north
because the Pope is Catholic
and most Rabbis Jewish
because the winters flow into springs
and the air clears after a storm
because only my love for you
despite the charms of gravity
keeps me from falling off this Earth
into another dimension
I love you
because it is the natural order of things
I love you
like the habit I picked up in college
of sleeping through lectures
or saying I’m sorry
when I get stopped for speeding
because I drink a glass of water
in the morning
and chain-smoke cigarettes
all through the day
because I take my coffee Black
and my milk with chocolate
because you keep my feet warm
though my life a mess
I love you
because I don’t want it
any other way
I am helpless
in my love for you
It makes me so happy
to hear you call my name
I am amazed you can resist
locking me in an echo chamber
where your voice reverberates
through the four walls
sending me into spasmatic ecstasy
I love you
because it’s been so good
for so long
that if I didn’t love you
I’d have to be born again
and that is not a theological statement
I am pitiful in my love for you
The Dells tell me Love
is so simple
the thought though of you
sends indescribably delicious multitudinous
thrills throughout and through-in my body
I love you
because no two snowflakes are alike
and it is possible
if you stand tippy-toe
to walk between the raindrops
I love you
because I am afraid of the dark
and can’t sleep in the light
because I rub my eyes
when I wake up in the morning
and find you there
because you with all your magic powers were
I should love you
because there was nothing for you but that
I would love you
I love you
because you made me
want to love you
more than I love my privacy
my freedom my commitments
I love you ’cause I changed my life
to love you
because you saw me one Friday
afternoon and decided that I would
I love you I love you I love you
You love a woman and you wonder where she goes all night in some tricked-
out taxicab, with her high heels and her corset and her big, fat mouth.
You love how she only wears her glasses with you, how thick
and cow-eyed she swears it’s only ever you she wants to see.
You love her, you want her very ugly. If she is lovely big, you want her
scrawny. If she is perfect lithe, you want her ballooned, a cosmonaut.
How not to love her, her bouillabaisse, her orangina. When you took her
to the doctor the doctor said, “Wow, look at that!” and you were proud,
you asshole, you love and that’s how you are in love. Any expert, observing
human bodies, can see how she’s exceptional, how she ruins us all.
But you really love this woman, how come no one can see this? Everyone must
become suddenly very clumsy at recognizing beauty if you are to keep her.
You don’t want to lose anything, at all, ever. You want her sex depilated, you
want everyone else not blind, but perhaps paralyzed, from the eyes down.
You wonder where she goes all night. If she leaves you, you will know
everything about love. If she’s leaving you now, you already know it.
30, Hoping © Tara Ong
I write this poem for you to read,
with heartache that will forever bleed.
I wish things were so different.
Sadly, this is what you’ve made of me.
I sit here alone day by day,
realizing my life is better off this way.
I admit I still hurt from all your lies,
yet you’ll never hear my cries.
You once made my world stand tall and proud.
Now what’s left has crumbled down.
Something good has come of this,
One more chance to find true happiness.
I guess this is goodbye, and so it shall be,
wishing for your love was foolish of me.
I will move on, which was too easy for you.
I wrote this poem hoping you’d feel heartache too.
What was it I was going to say?
Slipped away probably because
it needn’t be said. At that edge
almost not knowing but second
guessing the gain, loss, or effect
of an otherwise hesitant remark.
Slant of light on a brass box. The way
a passing thought knots the heart.
There’s nothing, nothing to say.
Things That Happened During Petsitting That I Remind Myself Are Not Metaphors for My Heart
The dog refuses to eat. I keep filling her bowl
anyway: new kibble on top of old, hoping
that it will suddenly becoming tempting.
When I write, the cat watches me from a chair.
When I look at him, he purrs loudly, leans forward
so that I might touch him. I don’t.
Now the dog refuses to come out of her cage,
no matter what I say, no matter how wide I open
the door. She knows that I am not her master.
On the couch, the cat crawls on top of me
and loves me so hard, his claws draw blood.
I am so lonely, I do nothing to stop it.
There are lights in this house I want to turn on,
but I can’t find their switches. Outside, an engine
turns and turns in the night, but never catches.
33, The Weeping Willow © Azania Willson
Last night I woke up and you weren’t there.
I told myself that I shouldn’t care.
I wrapped my arms around a pillow,
Staring out the window at the weeping willow.
Why does it weep? Why all the tears?
Is it also weak and filled with fears?
Has it lost its love, like I lost mine?
Don’t worry, everything heals with time.
Last night I woke up, again all alone.
I told myself that you would never again phone.
I hugged my blanket and tried to sleep.
Again I looked at the tree. Why does it weep?
Why does it hang its head? Is it also trying to forget?
Has it given up? Is it filled with regret?
Why does the willow weep? Does it feel remorse?
Does the willow also wait for time to take its course?
Last night I woke up. The bed again was empty.
I held back all my tears because I’ve already wasted plenty.
Again I looked out the window, and there was the willow across the street.
I thought about our time together, and with the willow I began to weep.
But sometimes I forget where I am,
Imagine myself inside that life again.
Recalcitrant mornings. Sun perhaps,
Or more likely colorless light
Filtering its way through shapeless cloud.
And when I begin to believe I haven’t left,
The rest comes back. Our couch. My smoke
Climbing the walls while the hours fall.
Straining against the noise of traffic, music,
Anything alive, to catch your key in the door.
And that scamper of feeling in my chest,
As if the day, the night, wherever it is
I am by then, has been only a whir
Of something other than waiting.
We hear so much about what love feels like.
Right now, today, with the rain outside,
And leaves that want as much as I do to believe
In May, in seasons that come when called,
It’s impossible not to want
To walk into the next room and let you
Run your hands down the sides of my legs,
Knowing perfectly well what they know.
I won’t ever tell you how it ended.
But it ended. I was told not to act
Like it was some big dramatic moment.
She swiveled on her heels like she twirled just
The other day on a bar stool, the joy
Gone out of it now. Then she walked away.
I called out to her once. She slightly turned.
But she didn’t stop. I called out again.
And that was when, well, that’s just when
You know: You will always be what you were
On that small street at that small time, right when
She left and Pluto sudsed your throat and said,
Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche
Tú la quisiste, y a veces ella también te quiso.
36, Free © Justine Hibe
Even it’s hard for me
To let you free
I’ll do it for you
So that you’ll not be lonely
It may take me a river of tears
For you to be happy, I’ll bear
Just don’t you glance again to me
‘Cause I may not set you free
I’ll be keeping my love for you
To the deepest part of me
I will not forget what we’ve shared
Because that’s the only treasure I’ll keep
But when the time comes
You want to be with me
I’ll accept you whole heartedly
But for now I am setting you free
37, Movement Song © Audre Lorde
I have studied the tight curls on the back of your neck
moving away from me
beyond anger or failure
your face in the evening schools of longing
through mornings of wish and ripen
we were always saying goodbye
in the blood in the bone over coffee
before dashing for elevators going
in opposite directions
Do not remember me as a bridge nor a roof
as the maker of legends
nor as a trap
door to that world
where black and white clericals
hang on the edge of beauty in five oclock elevators
twitching their shoulders to avoid other flesh
there is someone to speak for them
moving away from me into tomorrows
morning of wish and ripen
your goodbye is a promise of lightning
in the last angels hand
unwelcome and warning
the sands have run out against us
we were rewarded by journeys
away from each other
into mornings alone
where excuse and endurance mingle
Do not remember me
nor as the keeper of secrets
I am a fellow rider in the cattle cars
you move slowly out of my bed
saying we cannot waste time
38, dear love, © Barbara Jane Reyes
you dream in the language of dodging bullets and artillery fire.
new, sexy diagnoses have been added to the lexicon on your behalf
(“charlie don’t surf,” has also been added to the lexicon on your behalf).
in this home that is not our home, we have mutually exiled each
other. i walk down your street in the rain, and i do not call you. i
walk in the opposite direction of where i know to find you. that we
do not speak is louder than bombs.
there are times that missing you is a matter of procedure. now is
not one of those times. there are times when missing you hurts. so
it comes to this, vying for geography. there is a prayer stuck in my
throat. douse me in gasoline, my love, and strike a match. let’s see
this prayer ignite to high heaven.
39, Broken When You Left © Caitlin
Baby, I guess it was never meant to be.
I miss what we used to be,
but baby, can’t you see that I’m dying?
I’ve spent all of my lonely nights crying,
making myself believe it’s not true
and end up waking in the morning without you.
My heart seems to shatter every time I hear your voice,
reminding me of what we had, and your stupid choice.
I wish I had never made that stupid decision,
the one that changed my life forever.
I wish I could still make you see
how much you meant to me.
It’s too late for me to say I love you,
you’ve already moved on.
I was just an innocent girl looking for love,
you were just a boy looking for a sign,
to go back to what you had before,
and I was what made you realize,
that you needed her more.
When the bass drops on Bill Withers’
Better Off Dead, it’s like 7 a.m.
and I confess I’m looking
over my shoulder once or twice
just to make sure no one in Brooklyn
is peeking into my third-floor window
to see me in pajamas I haven’t washed
for three weeks before I slide
from sink to stove in one long groove
left foot first then back to the window side
with my chin up and both fists clenched
like two small sacks of stolen nickels
and I can almost hear the silver
hit the floor by the dozens
when I let loose and sway a little back
and just like that I’m a lizard grown
two new good legs on a breeze
-bent limb. I’m a grown-ass man
with a three-day wish and two days to live.
And just like that everyone knows
my heart’s broke and no one is home.
Just like that, I’m water.
Just like that, I’m the boat.
Just like that, I’m both things in the whole world
rocking. Sometimes sadness is just
what comes between the dancing. And bam!,
my mother’s dead and, bam!, my brother’s
children are laughing. Just like—ok, it’s true
I can’t pop up from my knees so quick these days
and no one ever said I could sing but
tell me my body ain’t good enough
for this. I’ll count the aches another time,
one in each ankle, the sharp spike in my back,
this mud-muscle throbbing in my going bones,
I’m missing the six biggest screws
to hold this blessed mess together. I’m wind-
rattled. The wood’s splitting. The hinges are
falling off. When the first bridge ends,
just like that, I’m a flung open door.
They broke up and she, either fed up or drunk or undone,
ached to get back inside. Officials surmise
she climbed a ladder to his roof, removed
the chimney cap and entered feet first. Long story short,
she died there. Stuck. Like a tragic Santa. Struggling
for days, the news explains. It was a smell that led
to the discovery of her body. One neighbor
speaks directly into the microphone, asks how a person
could disregard so much: the damper, the flue,
the smoke shelf. He can’t imagine what it was she faced.
The empty garage. The locked back door. And is that
a light on in the den? They show us the grass
where they found her purse. And it’s not impossible to picture
her standing on the patio — abandoned — the mind
turning obscene, all hopes pinned on refastening the snap.
Then spotting the bricks rising above the roof
and at first believing and then knowing, sun flashing its
god-blinding light behind it, that the chimney was the way.
42, Look Me In The Eyes © Jenny
Look me in the eyes
And tell me what you see.
My hopes and dreams are shattered.
Is there no future for you and me?
I love you more than I ever thought I could.
Someday I thought we would find happiness,
Like every couple should.
Look me in the eyes.
For once tell me the truth.
Did you ever love me?
Please don’t make any excuse.
Look me in the eyes.
Can’t you see my pain?
My heart is breaking;
I have no one else to blame.
Look me in the eyes.
Can’t you see my fear?
If I’m losing you,
God take me away from here.
Look me in the eyes.
You’ll see how much I care.
The tears roll slowly down
Then vanish in thin air.
Look me in the eyes.
Can’t you see my hurt?
If not when I’m awake,
Then do it while I sleep.
Look me in the eyes
At least once before I die.
You will see the memories
That we shared through our
Look them in the eyes,
Let them know you care.
Let them know you love them
And that you will always be there.
Look them in the eyes.
Please don’t wait until it’s too late.
Look them in the eyes,
Only speak the truth.
Lies can hurt forever
Some hearts get too torn to mend.
Look them in the eyes.
They will always need a friend.
Look them in the eyes,
Never let it end.
Then do it while I sleep.
This was once a love poem,
before its haunches thickened, its breath grew short,
before it found itself sitting,
perplexed and a little embarrassed,
on the fender of a parked car,
while many people passed by without turning their heads.
It remembers itself dressing as if for a great engagement.
It remembers choosing these shoes,
this scarf or tie.
Once, it drank beer for breakfast,
drifted its feet
in a river side by side with the feet of another.
Once it pretended shyness, then grew truly shy,
dropping its head so the hair would fall forward,
so the eyes would not be seen.
IT spoke with passion of history, of art.
It was lovely then, this poem.
Under its chin, no fold of skin softened.
Behind the knees, no pad of yellow fat.
What it knew in the morning it still believed at nightfall.
An unconjured confidence lifted its eyebrows, its cheeks.
The longing has not diminished.
Still it understands. It is time to consider a cat,
the cultivation of African violets or flowering cactus.
Yes, it decides:
Many miniature cacti, in blue and red painted pots.
When it finds itself disquieted
by the pure and unfamiliar silence of its new life,
it will touch them—one, then another—
with a single finger outstretched like a tiny flame.
I want to spend a lot but not all of my years with you.
We’ll talk about kids
but make plans to travel.
I will remember your eyes
as green when they were gray.
Our dogs will be named For Now and Mostly.
Sex will be good but next door’s will sound better.
There will be small things.
I will pick up your damp towel from the bed,
and then I won’t.
I won’t be as hot as I was
when I wasn’t yours
and your hairline now so
When we pull up alongside a cattle car
and hear the frightened lows,
I will silently judge you
for not immediately renouncing meat.
You will bring me wine
and notice how much I drink.
The garden you plant and I plant
is tunneled through by voles,
we speak aren’t vows,
but there’s something
holding me here, for now,
like your eyes, which I suppose
are brown, after all.
45, To Him © Becky Powell
The cold winds are blowing
The leaves are falling to the ground.
Soon the snow will be falling
And my heart will be crying
Because you’re not around.
Another year is passing
And still we’re apart.
I don’t understand, I don’t know
But the pain is deep in my soul.
How do I explain this to my heart?
You said you’d be there when I need you.
Where the hell are you now?
In another woman’s arms holding her tight?
I can hardly make it through the night
Without crying your name out loud.
Don’t you know that not a day goes by
That you don’t cross my mind?
It’s hard to believe that you still care
When months go by without a word
I must be blind.
Blinded by a love I feel
For a man who will never be mine.
Tell me how to turn it off.
Show me how to kill this love.
Throw the switch so it will die.
I think I’m slowly losing my mind.
How can I forget you?
You’re the one true love I’ve ever known.
The cold seeps into my bones
And my heart is turning blue.
My friends think I’m crazy
For caring so much
That I’d gladly risk everything
To be in your arms once again,
To feel the magic of your touch.
I know you’re not Prince Charming
But you’re the closest thing I’ve ever seen.
I long to feel your lips on mine
And once again my “sun” will shine.
I’m sure you know what I mean.
Come back to me, my love!
Show me that you still care.
Warm my heart and my bed.
Clear the fog from my head.
Prove that you’ll always be there.
I’ve noticed after a few sips of tea, the tip of her tongue, thin and red
with heat, quickens when she describes her cuts and bruises—deep violets and red.
The little girl I baby-sit, hair orange and wild, sits splayed and upside down
on a couch, insists her giant book of dinosaurs is the only one she’ll ever read.
The night before I left him, I could not sleep, my eyes fixed on the freckles
of his shoulder, the glow of the clock, my chest heavy with dread.
Scientists say they’ll force a rabbit to a bird, a jellyfish with a snake, even
though the pairs clearly do not mix. Some things are not meant to be bred.
I almost forgot the weight of a man sitting beside me in bed sheets crumpled
around our waists, both of us with magazines, laughing at the thing he just read.
He was so charming—pointed out planets, ghost galaxies, an ellipsis
of ants on the wall. And when he kissed me goodnight, my neck reddened.
I’m terrible at cards. Friends huddle in for Euchre, Hearts—beg me to play
with them. When it’s obvious I can clearly win with a black card, I select a red.
I throw away my half-finished letters to him in my tiny pink wastebasket, but
my aim is no good. The floor is scattered with fire hazards, declarations unread.
What faculties, when perverted, most degrade the mind?
What faculties, when perverted, does it cost most to gratify?
I undertook to discover the soul in the body—
I looked in the pineal gland, I looked
in the vena cava. I looked in every
perforating arterial branch. With the fingers
of my right, I touched the Will and the Ring
of Solomon on the left. For a second
I felt sprung. Then bereft as ever.
Someone used to love me. Someone
used to see me. If you open a person up,
purple, pulsing. It’s in here somewhere, scalpel,
and in and in. Let’s walk in the woods,
as we once did, and see if we can find a snail,
its shell covered in symbiotic lichen.
When you covered my lichen in yours,
I thought that’s what we wanted—
to be rock and moss and slug and all of it.
To be simultaneously thinking of snails,
which are so beautifully stony
and marvelously squished.
Wasn’t that what we wanted?
I went to your lecture. I thought it
best to retrace my steps. You were trying
to explain—If I were to put my fingers directly on your brain . . .
I wish you would, how I wish you would
trace the seagull diving towards the water
as a whale rises up, the anchor dropped, the gray
linen slacks, all the polygons of my this and that
jigsawing under your touch. Oh yes, let’s
do that. Let’s vivisect my brain and see
if it’s in there. You have your porcelain man
with the black-lined map of his longing.
You have your pointer and your glasses
and your pen. I hear you ask the class, What faculties,
having ascendancy, are deaf to reason? What faculty,
when large, brightens every object on which we look?
I miss you, you know. I miss you so.
48, Life © Kevin Lyth
At times our lives are set to change
Through no fault of our own,
A change you know will break your heart
And break the family home.
But what is more important?
To live a life in fear,
Or change and live the life you should
With someone you hold dear?
Everyone needs freedom
To live the life they should!
They need to find their inner selves
And make themselves feel good!
If a person can’t see what they have
Right before their eyes
When reality hits and the money has gone,
Imagine their surprise!
Some men think they’re above themselves
And think of their own self worth
And they never stop to think a while
Of this woman who gave us birth
This caring, giving, loving woman
Who’s always stood by his side
And if shown true love and affection
She’d be there till they died
Relationships should blossom
Relationships should grow!
You should never forget those first feelings of love
That deep warm and inner glow
But sadly some don’t think like that
And for those you should feel sorrow!
They end up leading lonely lives
Of past regrets and never thinking of tomorrow
Because tomorrow is another day
And thoughts of where you’ll venture
Don’t think of the hard road that’s ahead
Turn it into a new adventure
We all need someone to show us
That we’re not just there for the ride
We need to know he feels so proud
To have this beauty by his side
Yes! You have an inner beauty
You’re loving, caring and kind!
If an ignorant man just can’t see that!
Then yes! Ignorance is blind
Look to the future, look to yourself
Look for a life not stuck on the shelf
Be the woman you want to
Be the woman you can!
Be a woman in love
In love with a man
Who has true love and affection
And shows that he can!
No matter what happens to this jilted bride
Take strength from true friends
You’ll have by your side
They are there when you need them
Through all of your pain
You’ll laugh and you’ll cry!
But they’ll keep you sane
One day you’ll look back
And laugh amongst friends
And you’ll be holding a man
Who you know can depend
On showing true love
He’ll never waiver or bend
And he’ll see a woman
Who’ll be there ’til the end
News o’ grief had overteäken
Dark-ey’d Fanny, now vorseäken;
There she zot, wi’ breast a-heavèn,
While vrom zide to zide, wi’ grievèn,
Vell her head, wi’ tears a-creepèn
Down her cheäks, in bitter weepèn.
There wer still the ribbon-bow
She tied avore her hour ov woe,
An’ there wer still the han’s that tied it
Or wringèn tight,
In ceäre that drown’d all ceäre bezide it.
When a man, wi’ heartless slightèn,
Mid become a maïden’s blightèn,
He mid ceärlessly vorseäke her,
But must answer to her Meäker;
He mid slight, wi’ selfish blindness,
All her deeds o’ lovèn-kindness,
God wull waïgh em wi’ the slightèn
That mid be her love’s requitèn;
He do look on each deceiver,
He do know
What weight o’ woe
Do breäk the heart ov ev’ry griever.
50, Ebb © Edna St. Vincent Millay
I know what my heart is like
Since your love died:
It is like a hollow ledge
Holding a little pool
Left there by the tide,
A little tepid pool,
Drying inward from the edge.
51, I Fell In Love With You © Kristin
I just wish you would come back to me,
tell me it’s gonna be alright,
the way things were supposed to be,
you holding me so tight.
You kiss me on the lips,
and tell me this is love.
Your arms wrapped around,
and for me that’s enough.
Tell me that you’re sorry,
for all that I’ve been through,
that I don’t deserve this,
I could do much better than you.
But I just stand there,
and I hold my breath.
I know there is no one better,
I will love you until death.
Too bad this is all a dream,
all so unreal.
Baby, it’s so hard to explain
the way you made me feel.
52, A Broken Heart © Nathan Dunkle
I wake up each morning, Its like I’m in Hell.
My mind races fast, who can I tell?
I feel the pain, it will not subside,
see deep down inside, it feels like I’ve died.
A piece of me is missing, all I can see,
is darkness and black, surrounding me.
I have not forgotten, all of the pain,
sometimes it feels like I’m going insane.
I hold on to this love, so very tight
I can’t give up, can’t let it out of my sight.
I try to move on, I really do
but I just can’t, cause I still love you.
Please love, open your eyes and see,
No one can love you as much as me.
I gave you my heart, my whole life,
you took them both and became my wife.
We promised to love, to have, to hold
together forever, even after we’re old.
but you walked out, left me for dead,
now all I have left, is a cold empty bed.
I lay down each night, praying I might,
wake up to my love, holding me tight.
My broken heart speaks, its hurts so bad,
my life goes on, I live but I am so sad.
To My Wife, My Soulmate, My best friend…
53, Dear Broken Heart © Sarah N. Hilliard
Dear broken heart, why can’t you fix me?
And dear broken heart, are you still with me?
And when I lay my head down and
Think of the things that I’ll never do,
Dear broken heart, know I’m thinking of you.
Dear restless past, I remembered you
And the way you make things wrong.
Do you want my tears to fall?
So I’m standing all alone,
All by myself, cold to the bone.
Do you still want me there, just to take the fall?
Dear broken heart, will you want me after all?
Dear desperate soul, are you still searching for the one?
The one who made me what I am,
The one who broke this heart and made me who I am,
Ripped from his hands.
And dear broken heart, this letter is for you.
I hope you get it in time.
And please dear broken heart, promise me you won’t cry, cry ,cry.
Please don’t cry for me.
54, Empty Arms and a Broken Heart © Mel
When I’m alone, and no one can see,
Tears form behind my eyes,
Every time you glance at me,
A part inside of me dies
Knowing it can never happen,
Knowing it can’t be true,
Shatters my heart and my world,
All I want is to be with you
If I could just hold you,
Just to know you’re there,
I would treasure that moment forever,
Just to prove how much I care
But I’m left with only a dream,
Left to wander – I’ve played my part,
I am all alone once again,
With empty arms and a broken heart.
55, Flower That Bloomed In The Dead Of Winter Died Of Loneliness © Judii
I believe at the end of my life,
the credits will read tragedy,
that with the last blink of my eye your face will cross my mind,
and I’ll go back to that day
in the dead of winter,
when I was warm,
because I had your arms,
but for that moment they were mine,
that night all you wanted was me..
and my last breath will be taken away at the realization
that all I’ve ever wanted was you…
56, Heartbreak © Kylee Bartz
I sit on my bed
And I read the same thing over and over.
I read what he wrote when he loved me.
its over now,
Its been over for a while.
But the Heartbreak has never gone away.
The tears begin to flow from my eyes.
Like raindrops, they hit the paper.
And smear the ink.
my heart feels like it is dead.
Or perhaps its dying.
A fire once, now just embers fading away.
I try to stop the pain, but to no avail.
there is only one thing i can think of
to end the hurting.
I get up off my bed.
And close my eyes.
And peirce my heart with the dagger that rested in my hand.
As I have just second left,
I open my eyes.
And for the last time, I read what he wrote when he loved me.
57, Brokenhearted Lover © Gina Petersen
I loved you,
But you broke my heart.
I should have known
That was your goal from the start.
You told me you loved me,
And you seemed upset
When I didn’t say it back,
And that’s my biggest regret.
You talked of the future
And put it in my head
That you wanted me for longer,
But you dropped me instead.
I would do anything for you,
But you couldn’t even wait.
I wanted you in my life;
I knew this on our first date.
I love you still,
But it doesn’t matter,
For the heart I gave you,
You have shattered.
So I am left broken
And picking up the pieces,
While you are smiling
And your care decreases.
You knew I was fragile,
Even though I acted tough.
You told me not to pretend,
That you could see past my bluff.
I still love you,
And I don’t think I will ever stop.
Just know if you need me,
Your heart I will never drop.
58, In The Shadows © Holly A. Blackwell
You left me in the shadows, alone in the dark.
I was left crying and upset the day you broke my heart.
I tried to move on and meet someone new,
But when I was in their arms, I wished it was you.
I tried and tried to push my feelings aside,
But my feelings for you I couldn’t hide.
Time passed, and I changed and grew.
I matured and moved on from the person you knew.
I started to pick myself up, I saw the light,
Until I saw you that Saturday night.
For you played with heart like you did before,
Made me feel like we could be more,
But you left my life, like you did before.
No cares in the world when you walked through that door,
So now I’m in the shadows, alone in the dark,
Now crying and upset as you’ve broken my heart.
59, Hole In My Heart © Georgina F.
There is a hole in my heart, what can I do?
Please someone help me, I’m in pain too.
I’m hurting so bad, can’t shake this pain.
I have this hole in my heart, my love was in vain.
Countless nights I spent in tears.
Sleepless nights, can’t get rid of my fears.
I’m afraid I can’t love with this hole in my heart.
I’m afraid I can’t love; it’s tearing me apart.
I’m afraid I’ll never, never feel love so pure.
This hole in my heart, will it ever be cured?
Please, someone, help me to heal this pain.
I have this hole in my heart, so hard to sustain.
What can I do? I ask once more.
With this hole in my heart, not there before.
“I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
God topples from the sky, hell’s fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan’s men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
I fancied you’d return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)
I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)”
Late at night, when you’re so lonely
your shoulders lean to the center of your body,
you call no one and you don’t call out.
This is dignity. This is the pure loneliness
that made Christ think he was God.
This is why lunatics smile at their thoughts.
Even the best moment, as you slip
half-a-foot deep into someone you like,
deepens to the loneliness in it
and loneliness that’s not. If you believe in
Christ hanging on the cross, his arms spread
as if to embrace the Father he calls
who is somewhere else, you still might hear
your own voice at your next great embrace
thinking Loneliness in another can’t be touched,
like Christ’s voice at death answering himself.
62, Restored © Kelsey Brock
One. Two. Five. Ten.
I am counting it over and over again.
Twenty. Fifty. One-hundred and two?
How many times you said you loved me true.
One thousand, six hundred and five.
How many times you stood there and lied.
Four billion, nine thousand, six hundred and ten
How many chances I gave you over again
Eleven zillion, six billion, five million, then some
How many feelings you have torn and undone.
But one, just one, poor little heart you destroyed.
Although it was not whole before,
Now it can never be restored.
63, The Dark Road To Love © Fathimath L. Ahmed
Destruction and ruination,
Confusion and complication.
That was all she ever was.
Mistakes and insecurities,
Culpabilities and apologies.
The world let her down just like it always does.
She walked on broken glass,
Bleeding herself out,
Numb to all the pain,
Body pale with colorless veins.
She watched as his life was intact,
Tranquil and content.
She tried to let him go,
She really did,
But everything about him pulled her to him like a magnet.
All his flaws in her eyes were like crystals,
Shining radiantly with acceptance.
No matter who he was, who he will be,
Her heart belongs to him, his truly.
Wildfires and cyclones,
Tsunamis and tornadoes.
They both went through those just to survive,
Came out stronger and more than alive.
Rejection and distances,
Resistances and broken promises.
They burned themselves for each other,
Afraid that they would perish if they came closer.
So they stayed where they were,
Carried on with their lives.
Life passed by her eyes in a blur,
As she hoped for the flames to die altogether inside,
For he had moved on.
64, Shattered Lives © Heather R. Carpenter
Memories are all that’s left of the love we used to know.
Memories of happier times now seem so long ago.
What started out as friendship grew into so much more.
I fell so deeply in love with you, a feeling like never before.
The days and nights turned into months, and months turned into years.
There was love and laughter, a baby boy, and many happy tears.
Friends and family, cookouts, four-wheeling, and camping–a life filled with joy.
Watching as our infant son grew into a handsome little boy.
Holidays were spent with the ones we loved each year.
Happy kids, lots of laughs, life was perfect with you my dear.
Falling asleep, feeling safe and secure, nights were never lonely.
You, my love, were it for me. Definitely my one and only.
And just like that it was over as I watched you walk out the door.
I felt my world crumble, the life I once knew no more.
Unable to stop what was happening, I watched you spin out of control.
The meth had taken over, and addiction had taken its toll.
The endless days, the sleepless nights, I’ve cried countless tears.
Waking up each day to face the reality of my own fears.
As I lay here all alone, my spirit completely broken,
A million unanswered questions, a thousand words unspoken.
When did you stop loving me? Exactly when did we fall apart?
No longer us, now you and her, she’s holding a piece of my heart.
She was a dirty little secret; you kept her hidden well.
I wondered if she believes all the lies that you tell.
You claimed that I was crazy, there wasn’t anyone else, but the truth came out in the end.
A betrayal at its worst; she was once my very best friend.
I never saw this coming; I guess I was just a fool.
So hard to comprehend it all; how could you be so cruel?
The sincerity of your voice, now replaced by hurtful lies.
The man that I once loved, I no longer recognize.
You’ve chosen the wrong path, and now you’ve lost your way.
The devil has taken the lead, the ultimate price you’ve yet to pay.
Don’t take anything for granted; it can change in the blink of an eye.
I never thought I’d live without you, never thought we’d say goodbye.
I look at our little boy, so innocent and pure.
I know I have to be strong; this pain I must endure.
Longing for the time when this heartache goes away,
I put my best foot forward and face another day.
65, Power Of Words © Nick Grasso
was it the first time I saw your face
or when I first saw you smile
when I was settled in my place
hope you’d stay for a while
when I thought that my life
couldn’t get any better
I knew you were right
we weren’t meant to be together
was I too caught up
in the time I spent with you
or was it that I wasn’t tough
because of something that I knew
I can’t believe I didn’t know
that you were slowly letting go
that we were drifting apart
with a hole in my heart
when I see you every day
I know I made a mistake
but with no effort in your tries
I found out all your lies
so now we go our separate ways
and say our goodbyes
you’ve driven me to my grave
with me drowning in your lies
66, Shattered Soul © Shianne
Heartbeat falls upon deaf ears,
Slowly take away all my fears.
Coldness closes in all around
As your shattered soul falls to the ground.
Teardrops fall from the skies,
Raindrops form in your eyes.
The hurting goes so deep.
Starlit sky burns out as you weep
Tears of fury, cries of hate,
As you curse your destined fate.
Your wall breaks down, exposes the world outside
And reminds you of every time you tried
To be perfect for the one you love,
To be like an angel sent from above.
Reminding you of all you couldn’t be,
You chose this lie, wove this fantasy.
You wanted happiness for a while, at least,
And by doing so you unleashed a beast
That took the happiness, left only pain,
Turned your world black, your dreams now slain.
As you know, he broke your heart,
But your soul was shattered from the very start.
67, I’ll Lie To Myself © Hilary Wong
There’s nothing left of me
Nothing more to take
I’m nothing more than just another story
Just give me a break
I’m nothing anymore
Are you happy?
Does it make you happy
To know that I’ll live the rest of my life miserably
Does it make you feel better
To make me feel bad
To make me realize
All we ever had
I’ll do anything to forget
The horrid memories
All the time spent
In such misery
I’ll lie to myself
I’ll lie to everyone else
What is there to lose?
The one closest to me has already said farewell
68, She Waits… © Elizabeth Shears
She loves him, he loves her not.
He refuses to give her just one shot.
She’s falling apart. He has no clue.
Things would be easy if only he knew.
He has her waiting for the day
He chooses her and she gets her way.
She cries herself to sleep at night.
She’s waited forever. It’s just not right.
He tells her that she’s next in line.
She’s waiting for her time to shine.
She wants to prove that she can be
More than what his eyes can see.
Every time he’s hers to take,
He proves to her their deal was fake.
His promise brings tears to her face
When others continue to take her place.
She tries to believe he’s worth the pain.
Her heart keeps reality from her brain.
She gives him everything he’s got.
She loves him; he loves her not.
69, Heartbroken © Katherine Ayala
You broke my heart
And won’t repair it
You took my love
and won’t give it back
You made me feel
and never did
You made me have hope
and you gave up
My heart is broken
You gave me good times
You gave me bad times
You let me fall for you
You let me fall in love
And you let go of me
And you let me have my heart-broken
70, You Used Me © Ellia Keil
You used me.
I thought you were the key,
But the truth is that you used me,
So now I will never be free.
I thought you loved me,
But I was totally wrong,
I thought you were my forever,
I thought you were my song.
Now I lay here in a crumpled mess,
Now feeling totally -less.
You used me,
And used is all I’ll ever be.
My dear, my dear, I know
More than another
What makes your heart beat so;
Not even your own mother
Can know it as I know,
Who broke my heart for her
When the wild thought,
That she denies
And has forgot,
Set all her blood astir
And glittered in her eyes
72, Slowly © Donna Masini
I watched a snake once, swallow a rabbit.
Fourth grade, the reptile zoo
the rabbit stiff, nose in, bits of litter stuck to its fur,
its head clenched in the wide
jaws of the snake, the snake
sucking it down its long throat.
All throat that snake—I couldn’t tell
where the throat ended, the body
began. I remember the glass
case, the way that snake
took its time (all the girls, groaning, shrieking
but weren’t we amazed, fascinated,
saying we couldn’t look, but looking, weren’t we
held there, weren’t we
imagining—what were we imagining?)
Mrs. Peterson urged us to move on girls,
but we couldn’t move. It was like
watching a fern unfurl, a minute
hand move across a clock. I didn’t know why
the snake didn’t choke, the rabbit never
moved, how the jaws kept opening
wider, sucking it down, just so
I am taking this in, slowly,
taking it into my body:
this grief. How slow
the body is to realize.
You are never coming back.
73, Accepting Heartache © Tania
I used to know you
I used to care for you
Even though you weren’t true
I saw something in you
That made me to want to stay.
It was a learning curve
Because your mistakes, your heartache
Gave me a breakthrough
To escape the misery you put me through.
What you did
Made me doubt my beliefs
In something I thought was so great
But even so, I know the hole you dug inside my heart
Is slowly but surely closing up
They say what doesn’t kill you makes you strong
I say I know what you did was wrong
When I look at my life I realize
Experience is the best teacher
I found strength in my weakness.
I’ve done enough crying caused by your deceit and lying
It took me a while, I ain’t going to lie
But now that I have accepted and accommodated your deceitfulness
And learned to take a step forward without feeling any weakness
I have my life ahead of me
Even though sometimes it feels like I can’t go on
I know accepting what you did and forgiving you
Was what I had to do to make my life right.
74, Teenage Heartbreak © Jess Terry
Just another case of teenage heartbreak,
all of a sudden he was gone,
and she was crying,
its time to get over romance,
its dead and gone
Shes in her room,
crying her eyes out
wishing she was dead,
Hes out on the town,
talking up his latest victim,
feeling on top of the world
Just another case of teenage heartbreak,
all of a sudden he was gone,
and she was crying,
its time to get over romance,
its dead and gone
she used him just for fun,
Now hes doubting the world,
She used him,
now shes gone,
leaving for another town
This is Just another case of teenage heartbreak,
all of a sudden he was gone,
and she was crying,
its time to get over romance,
its dead and gone
Now shes standing on the edge,
getting ready to jump,
[dont jump dont jump dont jump]
He grabs her hand,
and tells her dont,
hes not worth it
Just another case of Teenage heartbreak,
All of a sudden he was there,
holding her tight,
aint so dead and gone
75, My Empty, Broken Heart © Teresa Forbes
My empty, broken heart is left in the pouring rain to soak up my tears.
I lay all night all by myself
with tears running down my wet face,
’cause the person I loved ripped out my heart waiting for me to die.
Dying, bleeding with no one to love
because no one acts as if they care for me.
Each time I try to talk to someone,
they always act as if I don’t exist.
Hesitating to talk to the person I loved at one point
kills me more and more each day.
76, Old Times © Katie M
we were best friends?
you only wanted to be with me?
you always made me feel better?
you loved me?
Time changed everything.
talk to me,
even look at me,
They were old times.
77, Rebirth © Brett W. Jansen
The rain falls upon the stone.
No longer is it of use,
For a crack has ruined its purpose.
It is now only a tool for abuse.
A careless heart created the crack,
Allowing the rain to increase the ravine,
So now the rock only crumbles,
Creating a depressing scene.
Yet alas, a blossom rises from the shards.
The unforgiving rain drowns the bud,
Causing it to wilt,
Falling back to the mud
Until a careful hand
Led with patience and care
Saves the dying flower
From all its darkness and despair.
78, Love Lost © Lexi
Dawn breaks, the sun rises,
Cars rush down the road,
People walk the streets,
Shops open, newspapers outside.
The alarm sounds,
My body moves on autopilot.
I shower and change,
Key in the ignition, I drive to work.
The present surrounds me,
But everything feels numb,
A world so surreal,
As if I’m not really here.
My mind’s lost in the past,
Full of mistakes and regret,
But time heals the hurt,
So they say.
I wait for dusk to fall,
When reality drifts away.
Sleep dispels the pain,
And another day fades.
Is an empty place to be,
An unimaginable torment,
An indescribable word.
With a hole in my heart,
I am forced to make a new start,
But if I could turn back the clock,
I would never visit this place again.
79, How? © Anna-Marie
We talked for hours about nothing at all
as the music played on
and the day turned to night.
We walked side by side in endless circles under the light of the moon.
Now you say our time was wasted and my love is pointless.
How can you say such a thing without a hint of pain in your voice
and no tears in your eyes…are you that cold inside?
To you, life is just a game that you think you cannot beat.
And we are all just players you believe you must defeat.
80, Love: Friend Or Foe © James Toles
Love has hit me once before, has had me flying high
Love has left me down and out, falling right out of the sky.
Love has brought me lots of joy, made my life a thrill
Love has brought me lots of sorrow, left my heart roadkill.
Love, I ask you, why can’t you make up your mind?
If you cannot answer the question, then that is fine.
I think you’re unsure of yourself, a lost and confused soul
You warm people up with fire, but then make life so cold.
But I will play your little game, I will be your willing pawn
Let you make a joyful spirit then go and break its bond
But you guide us blindly into a hold we cannot escape
You give to us slowly, but in turn quickly you take.
81, Baby, I’m Stronger © Ashlei Ernst
You came into my life
During a time I was hurt,
All you said
Was that he was a jerk.
Days went by, we became close
I never thought I’d love you the most.
I went to your baseball games,
You took my home in your truck.
Us meeting was fate, now it’s not even luck.
During the summer, we didn’t even talk.
It’s like out of my life you slowly walked.
Summer starts to end, sport seasons start,
And then I see you walking back to my heart.
Days come and go, we get close,
And you’re the one who’s on my mind the most.
When our eyes meet, my heart skips a beat.
When our lips touch, I fall right off my feet.
One of your hands in mine, the other on the wheel
With all of that, my heart you did steal.
But now it’s all gone
And the right turned wrong,
The tone is no longer on our same song.
You were like no other who has taken my heart.
I wish we stay friends, like we were from the start.
You say you don’t want to see me anymore,
So stop looking at me because my heart is already sore.
Please don’t look at me or even think about me.
You’re not going to hurt me anymore, you see,
You’ve lied, you’ve cheated,
You’ve hurt me worse than I’ve ever been,
And now my heart won’t let another boy in.
82, Hearts Incomplete © Anela Arif
I made a mistake. I wanted someone more than my own heartbeat.
I gave my love, my life, my soul to hear that one’s heartbeat.
I thought we’d be forever.
My mistake, I wasn’t allowed to love, to be loved, to live, to laugh.
The world saw me as forsaken, my life grew to fall apart.
Years go by, my heart still broken, my grief still struck-en.
My sorrow walks parallel with my steps.
Lost, confused, hopelessly lingers my soul.
Clueless, innocent, my heart listens to others till it’s lead astray.
Still my heart lingers, not yet complete, ponders if it’s ever to meet.
Now entered another’s heart beat, but still does not meet.
I wonder if this heart is ever to meet, or must it always be incomplete?
83, My Story Of Love And Heartbreak © Adam McKim
I’ll tell you a story about a man,
A man whose life is not so grand.
A story about love and heartbreaks too,
Heartbreaks too painful, sad and blue.
And blue are the days that will be the worst,
The worst of all time, feelings cursed.
The days will drag on, drained of my glory,
My glory dies in the story.
The story will start out with love of course,
Of course it’s happy, no remorse.
Start out with my heart flying high and free,
And free is my soul…love, the key.
The key which will let all of my guards down,
Guards down…ready for what’s around.
Will let the pain in when ready to strike,
To strike at me when it feels like.
Feels like the love is draining from my heart,
My heart was filled til she departs.
Love is gone and I feel all of the ache,
The ache of love and then heartbreak.
84, To Whom It May Concern © Callum Bruce
I think today I lost a friend, how did I let it happen?
We laughed and played and joked around, WHY did I let it happen!
clashing sounds of falling pins, and the smell of fresh brewed coffee
all the things of our glory days, that haunt me without folly.
Deep down I knew I loved you, and somewhere you did too.
but somewhere along the line there, I lost sight of you
I know I really shouldn’t, but I still blame myself,
for all of the shortcomings we had ever felt.
Someday I know I’ll find you, though I know just where you are.
I guess the only thing is, I wish you weren’t so far.
I know I shouldn’t have told you, I regret it every day,
But I live with my choices, and live my life my way.
I miss you.
I just want your friendship.
FINE, IGNORE ME!
See if I care!
You self-indulgent ignorant swine.
I give you my friendship, my life, even my love,
and at my lowest point, when I turn to you,
you forget about me, like your dirty washing.
You know what? I’m not sorry. I’m not sorry I fell in love with you.
I’m not sorry that I took a chance on you.
I’M NOT SORRY
I’m writing you this now because I know this is the end,
The end of a friendship that I thought would never bend.
You are a beautiful person, of that I know is true
But that does not relinquish the crimes that follow you
You lied, you backstabbed, you cheated, YOU’RE FAKE.
But then again that’s the risk you take.
This is the end.
This IS goodbye.
85, Non-Existent Promise © Michelle
That night we spent together, I wished it
would have lasted forever, I always thought
we would be together, now I’m sitting here
alone thinking my forever will never be
Every day I just sit and cry
thinking about that night we spent together
and you promised we’d be
Now with a broken heart, a promise that’s
non-existent, I think of what my future
will be like, and if one day you will be my
Scared of ending up alone, just ’cause the
fear I’d never want to forget about forever
and how it would have been
This night thinking about you, how I always
had you on my mind, made me realize
I don’t want this to last forever
That night we spent together, I wished
it would have lasted forever, now I’m
sitting here making my own forever;
what I want it to be instead of crying
alone hoping you will still be my forever
and we’d last together
My forever is just beginning, I do wish you
will finally find your forever and
never promise you’d last together
forever if your forever will never matter
I know my life and happiness I have every day
and night will last forever, now you are
finally my non-existent
“MY FOREVER IS JUST BEGINNING”
86, Truth Lies © Alison
If love is great, if it is true,
Then how can you explain this thing I’m going through?
‘Cause after all those years that were together,
You decided to tell me the truth — that you’ve found someone better.
The truth that you don’t love me anymore
Is killing me to my core.
And the truth that you are the only one I adore
Is a kind of pain that I can’t take anymore.
I thought you loved me more than anything.
Then one day you just left me with nothing.
And now I’m all alone in this room where you used to lie.
Sometimes the truth makes everything seems like a lie.
87, The Hunter’s Call © Sherry Hardison
My heart pounding as I hear his hunter’s call.
I follow the trail of crumbs full
of broken promises, lies, and pain,
Knowing he has the power to hurt me
over and over again.
Standing before him at his mercy.
Exposed in the light of another day.
Trusting the declaration of his undying
Love for me once more.
I watch in disbelief as he pulls back
into the shadows without one word
Knowing he has taken aim.
I stand silent, weak and trembling
as I listen to the beating of my own heart.
Numb in that split second to the piercing
of his arrow straight through my heart.
I quickly fade into the darkness without a word.
Crawling back into my place of shame.
With every beat of my heart, I bleed.
With every tear from my face, I feel
Cold and so alone.
The life drains from my body with every breath.
In my final moment, I wonder if he will feel remorse
And search for me to bury my remains.
88, My Last Love © Mtarandfeather
Her hair of black and eyes of brown,
so very sweet and pretty she was.
From another country way on down,
fascinated by what she says and does.
Years went by and we fell in love
perhaps it was due to circumstance.
We seemed to fit together like a glove
but knew we were taking a chance.
She opened up to me of long pain
’cause she felt comfortable, you see.
She relayed her past and the strain
about a mother, father, brother and me.
She said I was her soul mate found
circumstances brought us together.
We felt love actually knew no bound
flocked together like birds of a feather.
I felt inside that she may be lost
what she needed I could provide.
My heart I felt prepared for the cost
just in the event that we may divide.
Raised without love she never felt
said she knew no other way but use.
These were the cards she was dealt
but still that is certainly no excuse.
It felt real in my heart, that’s true
and I also knew it in my head
‘Cause of time together as two
and never ever going to bed.
I felt she used me against myself
as I had a soft and open heart.
My love she used put on a shelf
took it down again and tore it apart.
Perhaps it was simply my own fault
but I believed in love and the power.
The wound hurts like filled with salt
any prospects of love again are sour.
I have fallen in love just twice in my life,
when I was young and again much older.
There’s been other love and even strife,
my heart has grown wise but now colder.
I know it’s sad to say that and I do fret
and feel I may be missing out on such.
Looking back through life with regret
to hope or love any more hurts too much.
89, The Stranger © Daniela Jude
It was a late night in September,
The beginning of autumn,
When the image of a stranger
Appeared on the left corner of my laptop.
He was tall and handsome,
He had a bald head, “damn” fit,
In his late thirties,
Way better than Brad Pitt.
We clicked in a second.
He took off my gold mask,
And when his green eyes looked at mine,
They took my breath, not only that…
He cut me open, I didn’t see,
I didn’t bleed, I didn’t feel.
Exactly how a doctor does
With the bodies at the morgue.
And he kept cutting a few months
He cut nice, but deep, my meat,
Without emotions in his heart,
But on his hands, now, is my blood.
And as he cut in half my heart,
He finds my soul, he grabs it fast.
Then he decides to make it his.
He played me good, I recognize.
And even if I wanted,
I couldn’t oppose.
He knew from cutting me that long
Which was my weakest spot.
He knew that if he’ll cut with kindness,
If he will speak deep words to me,
And if he’ll touch me where I need,
Into his hands my soul I’ll leave.
He sewed me back but didn’t put
His soul in to my heart instead.
And taking mine was just for fun.
I look like I’m alive, but inside I’m empty and dead.
From time to time I find myself
Lying in these sheets,
Closing my eyes, trying to feel
That the man touching me, is him.
90, First Love’s Heartbreak © Gabrielle L. Tastet
I never thought you could mean this much to me
Enough to rip me apart inside out
You just forget the things you said. I said.
I meant them.
The gaze of lust you had, I misconstrued for love.
“Forgive me? ” You say.
Don’t be sorry, your feelings are involuntary as are mine.
For so long I thought there was a chance.
Then with my admittance, the possibility died.
Still alive in my heart,
Set fire to the rest of my body.
I shot up in flames.
I died that day.
Then you send me a message, “Let’s hang out.”
I say yes, but it was only as friends.
My charred heart can take no more.
James saved me with friendship.
He loves me.
Why don’t you?
S’io credesse che mia risposta fosse
A persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma percioche giammai di questo fondo
Non torno vivo alcun, s’i’odo il vero,
Senza tema d’infamia ti rispondo.
Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question …
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
Let us go and make our visit.
In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.
The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes,
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.
And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.
In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.
And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair —
(They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”)
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin —
(They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”)
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.
For I have known them all already, known them all:
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?
And I have known the eyes already, known them all—
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
And how should I presume?
And I have known the arms already, known them all—
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
(But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!)
Is it perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?
Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows? …
I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.
And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep … tired … or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet — and here’s no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.
And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it towards some overwhelming question,
To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”—
If one, settling a pillow by her head
Should say: “That is not what I meant at all;
That is not it, at all.”
And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—
And this, and so much more?—
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
“That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all.”
No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool.
I grow old … I grow old …
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me.
I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.
I want to tell you why husbands stop loving wives
there is a tearing
always a tearing of our hearts
into the geography of Projection
and what is most close to us must
always be found out there
and when the wife
is a valve of the husband’s heart
and he cant really tell
her cunt from the pie on the table and the sweet
filmy curtains dancing in her windows
and all is one lovely lovely landscape
of intimate dailiness then
Christ stands up in his heart and says Get out
of her, lech lecha,
what is most intimate
is already you and you
must find her outside again
for a man must leave wife and father and children
to follow the Me that is himself
through the fervid gethsemanis of adultery
up the bleak hill of divorce.
And night after night the husband
hears that in his head or his heart.
Let this cup pass, and let me drink
always from the warm brown coffee mug she gave me,
let my hours count themselves her servant
and let her stand at the door at nightfall
reclaiming me back from the abstract day.
Let me love this woman
for I love her as I love my life.
And the harsh Christ of the heart says That
is why you must leave her. For every
man who studies to save his life
will lose it. And he
is implacable. The husband
in secret agonies of fantasy
sees her betraying him, sees himself
betraying her with all of her friends,
waitresses, stewardesses, actresses,
anyone at all. He speaks shyly
or she speaks shyly
of other loves and open marriages
and all the bandaids that fall away
night after night and the wound
speaks in him again. He hurls himself on her
desperate to ignite his own passion
to love her once more as he did when she was other.
But his head is turned wrong way round.
He loves where they have been and where they are.
He does not love her future.
Long ago he stopped knowing his way into her dreams
her secrets her subtle rhythms of selfGdisclosure.
They have feasts. They have friends.
They talk about children.
She knows it all. She has always known it
and pieces her day together from the merest signs.
For Christ talks in her too,
a Christ who wants her for her own:
woman, you belong to no one;
I gave you sun to be continuous
and night and rain
and you need no more.
They all have voices, they all
have arms. To belong
to him is to belong to society,
to Caesar—is that what you want?
And sometimes it is what she wants:
that it all could be done once for all
and life a gentle long echoing
of her first shy assent. But the voice
that hounds her says
Look at him—he brings
hardly the half of him to your bed.
He loves you too well, and you
have become landscape: Even your storms
are common in his well-known sky,
like a thunderhead heavy, handsome
over the brow of his own familiar hill.
You belong to your contract
as he does. Nothing
but what I do is done only once.
Everything else is again.
Die to each other and live.
93, Sex Without Love © Sharon Olds
How do they do it, the ones who make love
without love? Beautiful as dancers,
gliding over each other like ice-skaters
over the ice, fingers hooked
inside each other’s bodies, faces
red as steak, wine, wet as the
children at birth whose mothers are going to
give them away. How do they come to the
come to the come to the God come to the
still waters, and not love
the one who came there with them, light
rising slowly as steam off their joined
skin? These are the true religious,
the purists, the pros, the ones who will not
accept a false Messiah, love the
priest instead of the God. They do not
mistake the lover for their own pleasure,
they are like great runners: they know they are alone
with the road surface, the cold, the wind,
the fit of their shoes, their over-all cardio-
vascular health—just factors, like the partner
in the bed, and not the truth, which is the
single body alone in the universe
against its own best time.
When she says Margarita she means Daiquiri.
When she says quixotic she means mercurial.
And when she says, “I’ll never speak to you again,”
she means, “Put your arms around me from behind
as I stand disconsolate at the window.”
He’s supposed to know that.
When a man loves a woman he is in New York and she is in Virginia
or he is in Boston, writing, and she is in New York, reading,
or she is wearing a sweater and sunglasses in Balboa Park and he
is raking leaves in Ithaca
or he is driving to East Hampton and she is standing disconsolate
at the window overlooking the bay
where a regatta of many-colored sails is going on
while he is stuck in traffic on the Long Island Expressway.
When a woman loves a man it is one-ten in the morning,
she is asleep he is watching the ball scores and eating pretzels
and two hours later he wakes up and staggers into bed
where she remains asleep and very warm.
When she says tomorrow she means in three or four weeks.
When she says, “We’re talking about me now,”
he stops talking. Her best friend comes over and says,
“Did somebody die?”
When a woman loves a man, they have gone
to swim naked in the stream
on a glorious July day
with the sound of the waterfall like a chuckle
of water ruching over smooth rocks,
and there is nothing alien in the universe.
Ripe apples fall about them.
What else can they do but eat?
When he says, “Ours is a transitional era.”
“That’s very original of you,” she replies,
dry as the Martini he is sipping.
They fight all the time
What do I owe you?
Let’s start with an apology
Ok, I’m sorry, you dickhead.
A sign is held up saying “Laughter.”
It’s a silent picture.
“I’ve been fucked without a kiss,” she says,
“and you can quote me on that,”
which sounds great in an English accent.
One year they broke up seven times and threatened to do it
another nine times.
When a woman loves a man, she wants him to meet her at the
airport in a foreign country with a jeep.
When a man loves a woman he’s there. He doesn’t complain that
she’s two hours late
and there’s nothing in the refrigerator.
When a woman loves a man, she wants to stay awake.
She’s like a child crying
at nightfall because she didn’t want the day to end.
When a man loves a woman, he watches her sleep, thinking:
as midnight to the moon is sleep to the beloved.
A thousand fireflies wink at him.
The frogs sound like the string section
of the orchestra warming up.
The stars dangle down like earrings the shape of grapes.
95, Seven Stones © Marjorie Agosín
Today I picked up
resembling birds and orphans
in the dead sand.
I looked at them
as if they were offerings
of uncommon times,
as if they were
seven endangered travelers.
Like a sorceress, I came near
and very gently
against my cheek.
to be seven stones
inside my skin,
to be, for an instant, very round and smooth
so somebody would pick me up
and make clefts in my sides
with the damp voice of the wind.
you to pick me up,
to kiss me,
so I could be a river stone
in your estuary mouth.
I keep the seven stones
in my pocket.
They make a mound
in my hand
and in my stories
a mossy sound.
Just before she flew off like a swan
to her wealthy parents’ summer home,
Bruce’s college girlfriend asked him
to improve his expertise at oral sex,
and offered him some technical advice:
Use nothing but his tonguetip
to flick the light switch in his room
on and off a hundred times a day
until he grew fluent at the nuances
of force and latitude.
Imagine him at practice every evening,
more inspired than he ever was at algebra,
beads of sweat sprouting on his brow,
thinking, thirty-seven, thirty-eight,
seeing, in the tunnel vision of his mind’s eye,
the quadratic equation of her climax
yield to the logic
of his simple math.
Maybe he unscrewed
the bulb from his apartment ceiling
so that passersby would not believe
a giant firefly was pulsing
its electric abdomen in 13 B.
Maybe, as he stood
two inches from the wall,
in darkness, fogging the old plaster
with his breath, he visualized the future
as a mansion standing on the shore
that he was rowing to
with his tongue’s exhausted oar.
Of course, the girlfriend dumped him:
met someone, aprËs-ski, who,
using nothing but his nose
could identify the vintage of a Cabernet.
Sometimes we are asked
to get good at something we have
no talent for,
or we excel at something we will never
have the opportunity to prove.
Often we ask ourselves
to make absolute sense
out of what just happens,
and in this way, what we are practicing
which everybody practices,
but strangely few of us
grow graceful in.
The climaxes of suffering are complex,
costly, beautiful, but secret.
Bruce never played the light switch again.
So the avenues we walk down,
full of bodies wearing faces,
are full of hidden talent:
enough to make pianos moan,
streetlights deliriously flicker.
we were never caught
we partied the southwest, smoked it from L.A. to El Dorado
worked odd jobs between delusions of escape
drunk on the admonitions of parents, parsons & professors
driving faster than the road or law allowed.
our high-pitched laughter was young, heartless & disrespected
authority. we could be heard for miles in the night
the Grand Canyon of a new manhood.
like the first sighting of Mount Wilson
we rebelled against the southwestern wind
we got so naturally ripped, we sprouted wings,
crashed parties on the moon, and howled at the earth
we lived off love. It was all we had to eat
when you split you took all the wisdom
and left me the worry
98, The Flurry © Sharon Olds
When we talk about when to tell the kids,
we are so together, so concentrated.
I mutter, ‘I feel like a killer.’ ‘I’m
the killer’—taking my wrist-he says,
holding it. He is sitting on the couch,
the worn indigo chintz around him,
rich as a night tide, with jellies,
I am sitting on the floor. I look up at him
as if within some chamber of matedness
some dust I carry around me. Tonight,
to breathe its Magellanic field is less
painful, maybe because he is drinking
a wine grown where I was born—fog,
eucalyptus, sempervirens—and I’m
sharing the glass with him. ‘Don’t catch
my cold,’ he says,’—oh, that’s right, you want
to catch my cold.’ I should not have told him that,
I tell him I will try to fall out of
love with him, but I feel I will love him
all my life. He says he loves me
as the mother of our children, and new troupes
of tears mount to the acrobat platforms
of my ducts and do their burning leaps,
some of them jump straight sideways, and for a
moment, I imagine a flurry
of tears like a wirra of knives thrown
at a figure to outline it—a heart’s spurt
of rage. It glitters, in my vision, I nod
to it, it is my hope.
Love is a flame that burns with sacred fire,
And fills the being up with sweet desire;
Yet, once the altar feels love’s fiery breath,
The heart must be a crucible till death.
Say love is life; and say it not amiss,
That love is but a synonym for bliss.
Say what you will of love—in what refrain,
But knows the heart, ‘tis but a word for pain.
100, Porphyria’s Lover © Robert Browning
The rain set early in to-night,
The sullen wind was soon awake,
It tore the elm-tops down for spite,
And did its worst to vex the lake:
I listened with heart fit to break.
When glided in Porphyria; straight
She shut the cold out and the storm,
And kneeled and made the cheerless grate
Blaze up, and all the cottage warm;
Which done, she rose, and from her form
Withdrew the dripping cloak and shawl,
And laid her soiled gloves by, untied
Her hat and let the damp hair fall,
And, last, she sat down by my side
And called me. When no voice replied,
She put my arm about her waist,
And made her smooth white shoulder bare,
And all her yellow hair displaced,
And, stooping, made my cheek lie there,
And spread, o’er all, her yellow hair,
Murmuring how she loved me—she
Too weak, for all her heart’s endeavour,
To set its struggling passion free
From pride, and vainer ties dissever,
And give herself to me for ever.
But passion sometimes would prevail,
Nor could to-night’s gay feast restrain
A sudden thought of one so pale
For love of her, and all in vain:
So, she was come through wind and rain.
Be sure I looked up at her eyes
Happy and proud; at last I knew
Porphyria worshipped me; surprise
Made my heart swell, and still it grew
While I debated what to do.
That moment she was mine, mine, fair,
Perfectly pure and good: I found
A thing to do, and all her hair
In one long yellow string I wound
Three times her little throat around,
And strangled her. No pain felt she;
I am quite sure she felt no pain.
As a shut bud that holds a bee,
I warily oped her lids: again
Laughed the blue eyes without a stain.
And I untightened next the tress
About her neck; her cheek once more
Blushed bright beneath my burning kiss:
I propped her head up as before,
Only, this time my shoulder bore
Her head, which droops upon it still:
The smiling rosy little head,
So glad it has its utmost will,
That all it scorned at once is fled,
And I, its love, am gained instead!
Porphyria’s love: she guessed not how
Her darling one wish would be heard.
And thus we sit together now,
And all night long we have not stirred,
And yet God has not said a word!
Lord, hear my prayer oh so dear.My Love Is Gone © Ralph P Quinonez
My heart is aching; my mind isn’t clear.
My love has left me; it hurts my soul.
Without that love, I don’t feel whole.
© Top Poems
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