heartbreak
They can break your heart, but they can't break your soul; poetry about lost love that comforts and uplifts.
A 2 A.M. Poem
You left two cigarettes at my house but two cigarettes is all it takes to start an addiction and it's an addiction I'll always hate but on you... it looked hella great. You wore the smoke like cologne and the smell was enough to make me choke and you apologized for it. You apologized but never quit and eventually I became used to it. I started to like the stench or maybe it was an acquired smell but when it finally became home, so did you. You were two a.m. cookies and 10 minute back rubs when work was wearing me down. You were slow dancing while breakfast was cooking and you were the sturdy arms that held me when my depression was more than I could handle and when your hands wiped away the tears that poured from my eyes, it was enough to break the camel's back. You were the feather that broke me. All of my walls collapsed. But when they collapsed it was a free-for-all barren wasteland full of arguments and thrown shoes all over the ground. My home now contained a stranger I had believed to be my lover. My home was a damaged one to begin with but when you left, depression and loneliness and rubble was all I had to call mine. Those cigarettes weren't mine. They were the memory of you and I never wanted to relive that memory again but without the butterflies you used to give me, my insides felt so empty. I struck up the lighter that I used to burn our bridges and lit up the stick of cancer you left and the first huff was like I was breathing in the lighter itself. The smoke burned my lungs and brought back the smell of you and by the time I lit number two, I realized I was addicted. Not to the taste of cigarettes, not to the toxins filling my lungs with every huff. I realized I was addicted to the smell of smoke and the taste of ash on your tongue but if smoking these cigarettes is the closest I can get to you, then I guess lung cancer doesn't seem so bad.
By Trisha Kirby8 years ago in Poets
Unrequited Love
The immense degree of such sentiment overwhelmed her core. Flames ablaze where her most dreaded organ supposedly resided; however, still fueled by the feeling of such attraction. His essence that she depended upon. Strings attached at the soul—tugging—and somehow she couldn't bare the thought of shears severing their ties. Despising the mere indication of devotion. Clustered thoughts distorting her view of what adoration had come to be. No longer could she see herself without the feel of his arm slithering around her waist, pulling her frame closer to his own. The bittersweet solicitude that weighted down on her shoulders, the obligation to maintain his functionality along with her own. Delay upon delay, words never allowed to escape from between her lips. Though her eyes pronouncing a thousand words, translating each and every desire she'd been withholding from her beau. Pride and shame formulating into doubt, leading only to destruction. She now becoming only an agent of chaos, cocoa-colored orbs taking a fiery mien. He still, the only body able to calm her. Bring her back to seems to be reality, a still motion of peace taking over the both of them for just a brief moment. Then, they both, now admitting to hell and chaos that had been the both of them. Their flames waltz, a fluid motion of cohesion. Slowing becoming one.
By Alexeonna Lewis8 years ago in Poets
