Song
Love me because I am lost;
Love me that I am undone.
That is brave, — no man has wished it.
Not one.
Be strong, to look on my heart
As others look on my face.
Love me, — I tell you that it is a ravaged
Terrible place.
Short sad poems about love
Short sad poems about love — no longer than 12 lines. Small texts you can read in a minute and remember just as easily.
Finality
When love’s triumphant day is done,
Go forward! leave me to the night
Beneath the coldly staring stars,
The waiting winter and its blight.
For I would never hold the heart
That mutely quivers to be free,
Unfurl your restless wings—away!
And leave the emptiness to me.
Bricklayer Love
I THOUGHT of killing myself because I am only a bricklayer
and you a woman who loves the man who runs
a drug store.
I don't care like I used to; I lay bricks straighter than
I used to and I sing slower handling the trowel
afternoons.
When the sun is in my eyes and the ladders are shaky
and the mortar boards go wrong, I think of you.
My Pretty Rose Tree
A flower was offered to me,
Such a flower as May never bore;
But I said "I've a pretty rose tree,"
And I passed the sweet flower o'er.
Then I went to my pretty rose tree,
To tend her by day and by night;
But my rose turned away with jealousy,
And her thorns were my only delight.
204. Song—Love in the Guise of Friendship
YOUR friendship much can make me blest,
O why that bliss destroy!
Why urge the only, one request
You know I will deny!
Your thought, if Love must harbour there,
Conceal it in that thought;
Nor cause me from my bosom tear
The very friend I sought.
220. Song—The Winter it is Past
THE WINTER it is past, and the summer comes at last
And the small birds, they sing on ev’ry tree;
Now ev’ry thing is glad, while I am very sad,
Since my true love is parted from me.
The rose upon the breer, by the waters running clear,
May have charms for the linnet or the bee;
Their little loves are blest, and their little hearts at rest,
But my true love is parted from me.
123. Lines to an Old Sweetheart
ONCE fondly lov’d, and still remember’d dear,
Sweet early object of my youthful vows,
Accept this mark of friendship, warm, sincere,
Friendship! ’tis all cold duty now allows.
And when you read the simple artless rhymes,
One friendly sigh for him—he asks no more,
Who, distant, burns in flaming torrid climes,
Or haply lies beneath th’ Atlantic roar.
Magical thinking
the pit is my guide
it rises from my own
make-believe sand
do I imagine a chance joy
or live with nature
having no cards for king and queen
the mark of the knave
is buying love
I find my wife in bed with the plague
Ohne Titel Teil11
Does he like me
A question I always wonder about
I forget myself
I forget my needs
I forget my worth
I feel self-conscious
I feel not pretty enough
I feel not worthy
All because of him
Wither
I often ask myself,
am i wilting
because i am past my prime?
or because you did not
give me the one thing
that i need to survive,
even though i begged you
countless times to provide me
with it.
i want to tell you something
i want to tell you everything
without you being afraid
or judging me
i want to mention how
my hair is falling out
how my clothes fit a little looser
how my parents told me that they love me a little less everyday
how it's getting bad again
but i can't.
Nineteen
How beautiful
your hands, tapping
my door, thirty
years ago.
Your heart knocked,
a fist against
my ribs. You
have been dead
half those years.
Describe a feeling — we’ll find a poem
Or try: