Breakup Poetry Novels & Stories

One day, I'll go play with the stars, But remember, do not cry, I beg of you. Maybe I'm cracked in the head, But you make me feel peace. You make me feel like fantasies, Do come true. You're a world undiscovered, I see you and I see love. Maybe I'm too broken to be fixed, But with you, I feel whole. Remember when I said you didn't make me happy? I lied, just to let you go. But you stuck, tighter than glue. I guess, this is love. I'm writing this, At 3:40am in the morning,

I was surprised that his handwriting didn’t upgrade as the centuries went on. One of his poems caught my eye. It was titled: Nothing Left I’ve grown a fear of intimacy. allowing you to get so close that your fires burn the very flesh that bound me together. Breaking down the walls I’ve built to protect my core. My heart resides in the shambles of the broken pieces left behind. Parts of me left a shadow of what once was whole. Bits and pieces fell in the path behind me. Being stolen by ignoble beholders. Until there’s nothing left.

I tossed, turned, stared at the ceiling until my eyes burned. I thought I was done crying over a man. I thought I was done crying for a man. I thought I’d moved past heartbreaks and learned to keep myself guarded. But here I was—alone, trembling, and breaking all over again.But the moment my chest started to burn and my vision blurred, I knew I was wrong. The tears broke free like a storm I couldn’t stop. My heart ached, my throat tightened, and the loneliness swallowed me whole. I couldn’t call Ashley—my ride-or-die, the one person who always had the right words—because what was I supposed to say? That I broke up because Gray was having sex with her mom? How was that going to make sense to

the stupid lady says "Shadow please I need you ....I'm sorry whatever I did wrong I promise I want to fix it. I- I'll do anything j-just please pick up ... you're the reason I hold on" I practically sob as tears start running down my face. No longer capable of holding them back "-uhm talk later" I sniffle and hang up Is this how a breakup feels like? Sure we aren’t dating but the sentimental applies when my heart physically aches. I refuse to eat because what's the point? My one source of actual happiness is ignoring my calls. Once again I’m falling into the same pit hole of depression I dug myself out of all those years ago.

"And we know it's never simple, Never easy Never a clean break, no one here to save me You're the only thing I know like the back of my hand~" The lyrics is making her laughs. Yeah, they never have a clean break up. Because from the stop, there is no them. "And I can't, Breathe, Without you, But I have to, Breathe, Without you, But I have to~" Peach voice is starting to crack up. You trying hard bitch! Peach scowl at herself. "It's two am Feelin' like I just lost a friend

“What mom? How can you say that--” She gave me her phone. There was a poem he had written. “I’d love it if you read this and think that I feel anything for her-- “She was my life, she left, life left. Never had anything, even my soul has left. Being a boy was never the best thing, When the only girl I ever loved left. Do you know that feeling? When there is nothing to see? Because you just don’t know What you should be? When there is no reason to live

The kind of quiet that used to feel safe and now feels like the last page of a book we both stopped reading months ago. “We can’t keep doing this,” I say. The words spill out cleaner than I expected. “No,” he agrees. “We can’t.” And just like that, the breakup is born. No screaming. No slammed doors. Just two people finally saying the same sentence at the same time. The room feels ten pounds lighter. The air moves again.

Oftentimes it broke on its own, other times it had been shattered: through carelessness or cruelty, and thrown against the wall, it had left stains, almost like the gray one above her bed. But on this winter morning Helen's heart didn't just break: it disintegrated to its elements, and that’s the worst heartbreak of all. Deep inside the chest, atomising hearts leave a void, as hostile to life as the desert. The painful thing isn't even the moment they’re destroyed. It is not the sudden sting as they fall apart, but the creeping, everlasting agony thereafter. Atomising hearts dissolve into a zillion parts, so tiny that they are invisible. So intangible that they can never be rejoined, and th

The words broke with them. Their bodies came apart in shards—glass and ink and pixels—peeling off the balcony and tumbling outward. Each fragment carried a sliver of their expressions: a curl of lip, a sliver of rolled eye, a flash of dismissive laugh. They hit the invisible dome of mirrors overhead and exploded into smaller pieces, raining down as black‑edged confetti. Where they struck the bridge, they dissolved into ink that bled words for an instant: ENOUGH NO LONGER CANON

The day after I proposed to my fiancée, she sent me a message out of nowhere saying it was over. I called her over and over, frantic, but she hung up every time. I sent message after message, and she read every one without replying. I even went looking for her, but she was nowhere to be found. It was not until I collapsed onto the couch, completely drained and white as a sheet, that I finally saw a new social media post from her childhood friend. [Only Ellery would actually go through with it. She drew the dare to dump her fiancé cold—no explanation, nothing—and she really did it. Absolute legend!] I read it, then replied to her message: [Got it.]