heartbreak
They can break your heart, but they can't break your soul; poetry about lost love that comforts and uplifts.
Murder
You turn on your television and there you see crime scenes, autopsy reports, 48 hours of a manhunt. But no one gets to see us. You don't see me. News stations swarm us until "justice" is served, but then we are left to stay silent in our pain because it is for some very strange reason not talked about. Something many people don't understand is that homicide victims, like the warriors such as my brother Joshua, who held his hat in his hands and bowed his head to pray before he was shot multiple times to his very death, or their killers. They aren't the only ones that you all should be seeing. I am a homicide victim. The pain Joshua felt in his heart as he clung his hat to his chest has now been given to me, to each and every single one of my family members and friends who are each still suffering and surviving in our own painful way. There is no recovering from murder. There is only surviving your new life without your loved one who died in such an unexpected, horrific manner. People find murder so intriguing... until it smacks you straight in your face and kicks you in your gut, you then come to realize that murder doesn't only happen on your TV screen. It comes like a ghost in the night and it takes you away. It steals all of your happiness and it stays.
By Bre'anna Snapp8 years ago in Poets
If You Had
It all changed so fast, barley had time to react. Going from the way you held me, to walking out like that. There's still 2 indents on my bed from where you and I had slept. And there's still a pile of clothes on the floor, but sadly yours aren't there anymore. And my skin's still soft, but your hands are in the pockets of your jeans instead of all over me.
By R.K. James8 years ago in Poets
What Is Love?
Love would only want me when no one else was around. Love would get a girlfriend and play like I was out for the count. Love got my cousin pregnant and denied it ever existed, made me feel so good and confident about myself I played right into his games of resistance. Love was 28 while I was only 17, having a whole other woman was his specialty. Love was cute and cheesy and I liked it. Also told me I was perfect even when he wasn’t. Love lied and said his ex fiancé was his sister, lied so many times I just couldn’t do it. The worse love of them all told me he wanted the same things I did. He didn’t give them to me but lied and gave me a disease instead. The love I thought would take all my hurt away just added on because he “forgot” his wife was here to stay. That’s love. That’s what love did to me. Probably why I have a hard time trusting and believing. Probably why I’m still waiting for him to come. Guess I’ll be waiting forever because love isn’t even love anymore.
By Shüg Antwanette8 years ago in Poets
