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Every relationship is unique and should be allowed a place in your heart.

Poems About a Lost Love

Sitting alone On a bench that's made for two, Only one side is empty, For that place is meant for you. Tonight I can write the saddest lines. Write, for example, 'The night is shattered and the blue stars shiver in the distance. Read Complete Poem. I love this poem. My wife of 28 years just passed June 4, , and I used to write her poetry all the time. I miss the sound of her voice, the touch of her hand, and the feeling of her arms Read complete story.

When you are old and grey and full of sleep, And nodding by the fire, take down this book, And slowly read, and dream of the soft look Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;. There's a pain in my heart that I'm feeling today, for the love of my life feels further each day. The sorrow is so much and the pain is so deep. I wish someone special could say this to me. Every day I wait in the hope that he will, and yet nothing.

This poem is everything that I hope for, that I want, and yet I know I will not get To the love of my life, though fate never allowed me to make you my wife. When we met so many years ago, it was love at first sight that I know. This is my story. It starts out beautiful and amazing, and like many love stories, it went downhill too fast.

During the summer of , I met this most amazing, funny kind, and handsome man! My heart literally hurts. My chest is in pain. Life without you Will never be the same. I regret the love I lost but never forgot the night we had. Never told her how I felt. I left to go and fight. When I returned she was gone forever, never to have again except for that night Of all the emotions a person can feel, Love is scariest and hardest to heal.

When we walk, we pour backward. The hunger leaves us satisfied, the fullness leaves us wrung. The sum of all its parts is whole, the reap of it has roots, not took or plucked. Far apart, we move inside our clothes: open is old, young is closed. The fangs we used to bare are milk teeth grown from gums.

The fire we used to be scathed by numbs. We run on the track of our consumption, done. We scold and punish, scrape, pay a price. We dole out in slanders what has no weight. We pay in cringing for the moments. We open injuries in one another. We lacerate places that flex like knuckles, crack and grow. We were lost at first. From the finish, begun. We undergo the pain the other knows.

We are cartoon yards where dogs dig for lost bones.

50 of the most poignant lines from poetry

Esoteric, we are full of holes. That need to be filled. That need to be dug.

We are under-loved. We are under-known. Give to us and we are downcast and uplifted and sift like water and sand like stone.

Healing Poems for Heartbreak

We are greedy, we are gone. We are helpless, we are prone. Let us empty. Let us alone. Madness is our happiness.

A Blessing for the Brokenhearted

Sadness is our home. This 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.

25 Poems About Breaking Up, Grief, and Heartbreak | Book Riot

This has the strong clench of the madman, this is gripping the ledge of unreason, before plunging howling into the abyss. Have you noticed? How I linger to admire, admire, admire the things of this world that are kind, and maybe. A post shared by amanda lovelace ladybookmad on Jul 18, at am PDT. What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why, I have forgotten, and what arms have lain Under my head till morning; but the rain Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh Upon the glass and listen for reply, And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain For unremembered lads that not again Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.

Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree, Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one, Yet knows its boughs more silent than before: I cannot say what loves have come and gone, I only know that summer sang in me A little while, that in me sings no more.

O, call not me to justify the wrong That thy unkindness lays upon my heart; Wound me not with thine eye but with thy tongue; Use power with power, and slay me not by art. Let me excuse thee: ah, my love well knows Her pretty looks have been mine enemies; And therefore from my face she turns my foes, That they elsewhere might dart their injuries— Yet do not so; but since I am near slain, Kill me outright with looks and rid my pain. O never give the heart outright, For they, for all smooth lips can say, Have given their hearts up to the play.

And who could play it well enough If deaf and dumb and blind with love? He that made this knows all the cost, For he gave all his heart and lost. 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 without goodbyes. 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 and now 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 desire into mornings alone where excuse and endurance mingle conceiving decision.

Do not remember me as disaster nor as the keeper of secrets I am a fellow rider in the cattle cars watching you move slowly out of my bed saying we cannot waste time only ourselves.

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 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. They broke up and she, either fed up or drunk or undone, ached to get back inside.