It is one thing to have a broken heart,
it is another to break one,
for once I am not curled up,
under the covers
crying into a pillow,
clawing at my chest,
but confused,
as to how me,
how I,
could inflict,
could break a heart,
could be worth a heartbreak,
for I did not intend to do this to you,
what could you have possibly seen in me?
it is a conundrum, I cannot understand
I cannot see what it is you see,
that is worth loving
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Author:
Anora (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: June 21st, 2017 22:57
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 46
Offline)
Comments3
Anora, I don't know if you are writing from experience or about an imaginary person. But it does not matter, your writing is great. Your poem drew me in and made me think.
The physical shape which resembles an hour glass is very interesting too as if you want to convey that it might only be a question of time. I can nearly see the sand running down from the top to the bottom. Someone (cannot think of the name anymore) once said that a poem is a picture of words, and you nailed it.
Great poem. Thank you.
I like this a lot. Great job!
I agree with Fred, the shape of the poem captured me as much or more than the poem itself. A poem's shape, to me, is a critical element of it, and can add greatly to its impact. A lesson to be learned by so many who contribute to this site. Thank you for this fine, well thought out poem, anora.
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