Pains of a Broken Heart

Petrichor of Love

" In the hallowed sanctuary where silence reigns,
Amid the ruins of affection's crumbling remains.
A tale unfolds within the chambers of the heart,
A mosaic shattered, a symphony torn apart.

Beneath the moon's pale visage, a mournful trance,
A pulse echoes louder than a silent scream's advance.
Within this dim-lit realm, where sorrow starts,
Obscured from the gaze, the broken heart imparts. "

I. Within the Veil of Tears

In the murk of despair is a heart entwined,
With chains of anguish where love is confined.
The tempest weeps in the silent dark,
As solitude devours, leaving a haunting mark.

Betwixt the tenebrous folds of fate,
A love once radiant, is now desolate.
The aching pulse of a shattered dream,
where echoes are louder than a silent scream.

Within this chamber, shadows play,
A ballet of sorrow in the shades of grey.
Gazing upon the fragments of affection,
A man is submerged in introspection.

II. Lament of the Raven's Call

In the midnight hour, a raven calls,
A feathered prophet standing against the walls.
Its ebony plume and a quill of doom,
as he writes upon the parchment of a tomb.

The ink, a bottle of tears from the heart's abyss,
writing a tale of love sealed with a fateful kiss.
The raven's cry is a dirge profound,
that resonates through the silence, unbound.

The broken heart is a withered rose,
with Petals strewn where melancholy flows.
Yet, in the sable depths of woe,
A seed of hope begins to grow.

III. The Fabric of Forgotten Vows

In the annals of time, threads begin to unwind,
The warp of passion that was so finely twined.
Now, a tableau of memories begins to unfold,
in a chronicle of love in shades of cold.

Through the loom of life as the shuttle weaves,
The fabric of joy,  my heart bereaves.
Each stitch is a whisper with a muted cry,
like a requiem for love that refused to die.

The fabric frays at the edges outworn,
As love's lament in silence is borne.
Yet, in the fragments of what remains,
is a mosaic of beauty amidst my pains.

IV. The Ghosts of The Yore

Memories haunt in the corridors of regret,
Whispers of promises the heart won't forget.
Ghosts of laughter are spectres of bliss,
that haunt the hollows of a lover's abyss.

The spectre of a smile is a phantom's touch,
that echoes of passion which meant so much.
Yet, in the shadows, a hope persists,
like a glimmer of light in the eternal mists.

The darkness lies inside a haunted maze,
Where my soul grapples with love's malaise.
The ghosts of the yore are a spectral art,
Painting the canvas of my broken heart.

V. Elegy for the Wounded Heart

As the curtains fall on this mournful stage,
I write an elegy for love in an eternal cage
of a Broken Heart painted in a tragic art,
which is marred by my tears falling apart.

Yet, within the ruins my resilience gleams,
like a phoenix rising from its shattered dreams.
The darkness inside me is like a tempest's strife,
to start a journey through the labyrinth of life.

In the annals of time will a story be told,
of a heart that braved the bitter cold.
Through the shadows and the abyss' art,
will endure the pains of a broken heart.

  • Author: Petrichor of Love (Offline Offline)
  • Published: March 11th, 2024 11:15
  • Category: Love
  • Views: 11
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  • Cassie58

    Fabulous poetry, very Poe like. A heart that certainly suffers and yet endures none the less. Well done.

    • Petrichor of Love

      Thank you ma'am for your gracious comment 💕

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