Time heals wounds, and those left by our breakup are mostly gone. There are a few scars, but I’ve moved on. There’s someone special now, but it’s just not the same. I will probably never feel with anyone else the way I felt with you. C.S.
Sometimes it’s not the person you miss,
but the memories and moments
you had with them.
Most days are okay. But there are those when I walk around numb, barely aware of my surroundings. The worst days come when I overdose on missing you. All together, I’m pretty good, but some days are really a bitch. I still miss you like crazy. S.O.
Up until the moment I lost her,
I had a wonderful life.
These moments now
are the ones that are hard.
I’m eager to depart this world
and rejoin her in the next.
Then, and only then,
will I finally be at peace.
Pretenders have taken advantage of me. Players have played me. Abusers have abused me. But yet my quivering broken heart says, “I will not stop believing you’re out there somewhere; the one who deserves my love. Do you feel me like I do you?” B.C.
The thinnest slice would be teeming
with memories of a love so strong
it turned you inside out and left you gasping,
and would be an identical match
to a slice stored in the heart of a soul mate.
Loving you, then losing you was the best and worst thing that has ever happened to me. I knew I had serious issues but always put off dealing with them. You leaving me because of my bad habits woke me up and made me do something about them. J.B.
Love opens the doors into everything,
as far as I can see, including
and perhaps most of all,
the door into one’s own secret,
and often terrible and frightening, real self.
The pain of having a broken heart isn’t enough to kill me, but is enough to keep me from living again. I’m stuck between a broken heart and one that doesn’t feel. Alternating between is agony. I want to get over you and I don’t at the same time. T.P.
People have scars in all sorts of place;
like secret road maps of their personal histories;
diagrams of their old wounds.
Most of our wounds heal,
leaving nothing behind but a scar.
But some of them don’t.
Some wounds we carry with us
everywhere and through
the cut’s long gone,
the pain still lingers.
I’ve decided instead of wiping away my tears, I’m going to wipe away the person who makes me cry. That’s you. It’s hard to let go but I have learned some people aren’t meant to be in our lives forever. Some are just passing through to teach us a lesson. P.H.
Loving then losing stripped my heart of color and vibrance for a while. More than a year went by after you said goodbye before good memories of us began to paint the cracks of my heart with tints and hues of effervescent gratefulness for remembered love. C.W.
Love is eternal…
the aspect may change, but not the essence
There is the same difference in a person before
and after he is in love as there is in an unlighted lamp
and one that is burning. The lamp was there
and was a good lamp, but now it is shedding light too,
and that is its real function.
Vincent Van Gogh
Love for you still lives in my heart but I’m different now.
You broke me. NO, you shattered me into pieces. Once I put myself back together the person who emerged is not the old quiet and compliant me. I’m stronger with lots of confidence. Are you ready for that? L.K.
Yes you are forgiven,
come back to me
and we can start all over again…
But one thing is for sure,
after you broke me
I’m not the same person
that you hurt before…
Every time you hurt me, every time I felt pain, every lie that you told me made me who I am today: stronger, but more fragile. Now I realize within is strength to survive the lost of great love. But also there are fractures in my heart that make it easier to be broken. R.Y.
I believe that everything happens for a reason.
People change so that you can learn to let go,
things go wrong so that you appreciate them when they’re right,
you believe lies so you eventually learn to trust no one but yourself,
and sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together.
Sometimes I forget how much you hurt me. I don’t think you ever knew how my heart wept silently over you for years. It was a rewarding torture to love so richly and then live with the loss of you. Even in my darkest hour there has been joy to have loved so deeply. A.G.
be the food of love,
Give me excess of it;
The appetite may sicken,
and so die.
From “Twelfth Night”
by William Shakespeare
Image by George Frederick Watts