There is a sort of broken hearted that is akin to a smooshed ice-cream melting on a hot road; then there is the sort that is akin to lighting a match, enjoying the flame and leaving the ashes. My memories of you, the fun ones, are that flame, but the rest is the ashes I watch blow away in the wind. I think that's fair.

Romance / Contemporary

Where did you go, my love?
Where did you go?
There's this guy,
Who walks,
And talks,
Just like you,
But it's not you.
It's like he got your skin,
And wears it,
Like his own,
But it's not his.
That skin belongs to a man I loved,
On him it was beautiful,
And soft,
And warm,
No longer.
The skin is ashen,
The smile I loved,
The protection,
Just attacking and cold.
And so,
I feel like a widow,
One with no funeral,
To go to,
To mourn at,
To express my grief...
For the man who wears your skin,
I wish him love,
Long life,
Whoever he is,
Because he looks so much,
Like the one I loved,
And even that shadow,
I love more,
Than most ever love,
In a lifetime.
Did I ever tell you,
That I love you?
Because I do.
It's just that,
My heart broke,
And mended,
With you,
On the outside,
And then he came,
And you left,


Though there were things in life I wanted to give up, Cody was never on my list. But now, as I lay him on my lap watching as he suffered and died slowly beneath me, watching him give his final breath, I now know how selfish I've been. I let out a cry and cry harder than I have ever imagined and I hear his last words playing over and over in my head. "I'm making you stronger." You did Cody, you did.

By babyelias02, January 13, 2019.

I can't stop loving you. You betray my affections and leave my heart in shattered disarray of pieces. Every single time you steal a part of me, and you make it impossible for me to put myself together. And yet, I always come back around to you. Why is that? Perhaps I hope that you return what you've stolen. You never do. You just take more. And for you, more is never enough. You can take me, you can take my heart, you can take the hearts of a million and it would never be enough for you. Your blood is cold. Your heart can't love anything but itself. You smile, and it's intoxicating. Your fingers brush through my hair, and it's addicting. You laugh, and it's contagious. You and your flirtatious self. You know what you do to me. You don't mind the company, but you know that you could never, would never return the love I shared with you.

By tara, January 7, 2017.

Once I was a glass figurine, perfect to the eye, fragile underneath. Since you used your words as weapons I am ground to the finest of dust - still glass, yet vulnerable to any gust. I still feel pain, so much raw pain, but I can't be broken anymore. You did your worst, but I am still here, sparkling in the midwinter light.


Lover, you cut at me and then crawl back into my affections. You strike, wound, draw blood to win any victory no matter how petty. You excuse yourself with meaningless jibes about the words I used to mount my inadequate defence, playing with semantics rather than true meaning. Perhaps you are unable to understand emotions, perhaps you simply don't care, only wanting your hollow "victories" - either way we are through and the pain sears at my heart.


I connected to a part of you others never feel. I saw a part of your soul you never wanted to let out of the bag. I touched you and saw your reaction, beautiful and raw. For those moments you were more real than the blood in my own veins, and I felt you like the beating of my own heart. The bond we forged was still molten when you pulled away, too nascent to resist your urge to hide once more. I called for you, held out my hands and let my face become wet with untold tears; but you would not or could not return to my love. And so my world has become blacker than it ever was before, darker for your absence, loneliness crippling my every thought. My lungs struggle for breath against ribs of stone and my feet have lost their wanderlust. Before I met you my heart was soft, with you it became strong and vibrant, now it is simply broken.


We shared our vulnerabilities more readily than trading cards, interlocking our hearts as much as our fingers. You took root in me in a way I have never let another soul do, feeling that you were my shelter and I yours. Life has seen fit to take you too soon my love and my heat is broken beyond mortal repair. What is to replace those roots of yours? How cold the wind blows in holes left behind. I visit our places, listen to our songs, lie on your side of the bed with your pillow in my arms. I have to believe that you are out there my love, that there will be a next life for us, that we will fall in love all over again.


Your soul is a pure spark of love but your rages are more than my heart can bare. You drew me in with a sweetness I'd never found before, something so strong I could feel it even when we were apart. But those times you came back so angry, yet unable to know the real cause, you broke me in ways I had never imagined possible. You turned my safe haven into my hell, my mind into its own prison, you broke my heart and now I must recoil to protect the shattered pieces that remain.


To come so close to pure love and loose it so violently is something no medication can heal. I held that girl on the day she came into this world, a gift from God above, a new angel for Earth. There is no graveside I can mourn by, there isn't even a coffin to bury. Fragments of her lie in the rubble of what was once our home, her soul fled back to the creator. My heart is broken, what beats in my chest is merely a mass of angry muscle that will function only until I can avenge her. She should have had a life, love, music and dance. She should have been the one weeping at my graveside with her husband and children about her. I was never an angry soul, never a violent person, but once love has gone it takes hold faster than you could ever imagine.


Suffering. That's how Mae always described it. Although I believe it's much more than just "suffering". It was a plethora of shattered bones, burning flesh, and cracked skulls. In other words, it was pain and painful. Heavy, the air seemed to be as the agonizingly long as days drew on. The wants and needs to shed a tear but feeling nausea by the thought. If I lost my sight would I not see the same darkness? If I lost everyone near me would I still recognize no one? And for what? To be reminded that I would've cared for you. I would've died for you. I would have ran to the edges of the universe if only to bring you back a star. A star that you would look at every night and think "I love you." Now. Now! That will never happen and I can never go back to before you showed.

By Airi Michs (V.I.P), January 3, 2014.

In the half-light Caleb looks like the shadow he's become. Hunched over the baggage he could be anybody, and in a way I guess he is. I took our bond for granted, and in my naivety I'd thought it unbreakable. But when that bus pulls away it won't only be broken, but shattered into fragments more numerous than the stars. I want to beg, plead, get down on my knees and tell him that his life here has meaning, that our love has meaning, but I know that face. It is the one he wears when his ears are closed and his mind has put up barriers to all new information. So no matter what I say it will only push him further away. So when I walk closer it is with a mask of contentment. I wish him well with the voice that came so naturally before his plan to do great things far away, it sounds like me but it isn't. I'm already in transition to become a person I never wanted to be. The bitterness is rising like bile into my mouth and when he's gone I'll have no reason to swallow it anymore.


He had known that to love deeply meant to risk great pain, he had pursued superficial relationships and one night stands until her met her. And then he was lost. No longer the master, he was a puppet. No more playing hard to get and dodging phone calls. That was thirty years ago and now he stood at her grave with silent tears falling on fresh cut roses. The tears were not quiet and controlled, they fell as fast as the fall rain and he sobbed to draw breath. His lungs heaved and he knew there was no cure for his heart. He had never looked at another, wanted another. His love had departed and he must find a way forwards. He could see her in their children and these reflections brought him both comfort and pain. She was alive but gone. He stayed head bowed until his face had been dried by the wind and his composure regained. It was his pain and he would keep it, it was the intensity of this heartache that proved the strength of their bond and he could not bare to feel less.


The greatest mistake I ever made was thinking that work ever mattered. I had six precious years with my son and spent most of them in an office cubicle, working late, being churlish when he asked for an extra bedtime story. Now I am nothing but a shell, worse than a robot and bereft of a love I took for granted. My heat isn't merely broken, it is a shadow of what it was and fading a little more every day.


Love is just a dilemma people tend to believe in. I have observed that people use this term to actually cover up their actual concern. Loneliness is what you get out of it; it makes your life miserable, breaks your heart into thousand pieces and still each broken part of your heart misses her like your heart missed her as whole. It keeps you obsessed with her, you just miss her face her eyes her smile her scent all the time knowing that you are never going to get her again. Life becomes vulnerable as you are enslaved by her thoughts, you try to be normal but you just can’t. Each and every thing seems meaningless, at starting everything looks extraordinary and ecstatic but at the end you are left with nothing except agony and emptiness.

By M.Hussain Sh.Mustafa, January 22, 2016.

Heart break is a funny thing. We all know it's going to happen, yet we're never prepared for it. We underestimate it's power. It's like giving a murder a gun, and expecting not to be killed. Why are we never ready for it? Because we're in denial. We believe it won't happen. We believe the murderer will not kill us. We believe if we give him our hearts he will not crush it. Hearts shouldn't be crushed. They should be cherished and protected. I wish someone would have told you that. I wish you could've known. I wish you would have cherished and protected my heart.

By justawriter, February 2, 2017.

I don’t believe in true love
Only heartache
I don’t believe in dreams
Only wake

You always knew
It was never meant to be
Just like the wind
Snatched by the next tree

Fairytales are only words on a page
There are no happy endings in real life
The perfect one for you
Already has a wife

Darling you just don’t have a clue
Dreams really don’t come true
And true love is just a myth
Created by a crafty wordsmith

By twilightlover77, April 21, 2018.

Once proud, walked tall
Effortless, but now I crawl
In wheelchair’s thrall
Bold voice, now drawl
Old leather unfolds
Topped by dust and cold
Centered, as I hold
To a fixed frame
Where my leg lame
Wheeling to spin
with speed of a Push ring
Rusty tune that sing
a long gone song of spring
Once a pair by side
longing to guide
behold with pride
but now at curbside
anxious, wait for a ride.
Oh, glazed eyes that sighs
I will rise and wipe my cries
tears up from the skies
made me not, but wise

By seriousman, May 13, 2017.

In this heartache the sun won't shine, birdsong passes as if the melody can't glide through the air as it once did before. But the truth is, I'd rather forgo comfort than keep a lover who doesn't love. So instead I will let this heartache be as my teacher and the reason to keep seeking one who can hear the playful calling of their own soul.

By Angela Abraham, @daisydescriptionari, February 16, 2019.