There is an unbearable sadness and beauty of having your heart broken by the same person twice. The first cut is the deepest.
By Veronica Smithabout a year ago in Writers
The day I lost him, someone told me about the Five Stages of Grief that I will and have to go through the heartbreak. It’s like a stair I have to climb one step at a time. I refuse to think about the coming days ahead.
“When a poet falls in love with you, you can never die” is like a line straight out of a romantic novel. When poets fall in love, they don’t just write about a person — they immortalize them.
By Veronica Smithabout a year ago in Poets
Heavy rain fell the moment I left, as if the sky shared my loneliness. The drops on my face almost tasted— salty, warm—
I threw away my heart in Bermuda where ships and planes lie in silent trace where time and truth were blurred and screams were never heard
If one day you lose your memory, who would remember what your favorite fruit is, or how you like your coffee? or how you got your scar when you were ten?
Ptolemy charted stars in circles tight, but there’s something he forgot that night Stars danced far beyond our ancient view
The cold persists. January’s grip tightens, and the days are long, and heavy with an unbearable sameness. I wake each morning to the same gray sky and silent street, as if the world has forgotten to change.
I found my wristwatch in the drawer, it was battery dead since the day we parted. Months have slipped away, but on my watch, it’s still 6:25.
