Breakup Poetry Novels & Stories

“Not everyone believes that!. No one has been able to give me a break! Alan this! Alan that! He and I broke up 2 weeks ago but I always feel like it’s yesterday because of the way everyone keeps reminding me!.” “It’s okay to feel dejected after a breakup especially if you loved him but that doesn’t mean you should put yourself down! You are perfect the way you are.” I scoffed. “Perfect? I wish so. I look like a vampire with my eyes bloodshot and puffy?.” “Yeah you do look ugly..” She replied cheekily. “Hey!.” I interjected giving her a little blow. Dara chuckled withdrawing. “Oh come on, you are like my only friend here, where does it say that I can’t taunt you?.”

My desktop screen glowed quietly in front of me. I tried focusing. Tried pretending I was just another employee working an ordinary job. But every small movement reminded me otherwise. The sting on my skin from Laney’s slap earlier. The missing piece beneath my dress. The memory of Romane’s eyes watching me from that jewellery store. God. I pressed my fingers against my temple tiredly. What was happening to my life? I felt not in control anymore after a very long time. My marriage was cracking apart in silence. Laney was becoming more possessive by the day. And somehow Romane had suddenly reappeared after years like a ghost refusing to stay buried.

But just then, a tearing pain ripped through my chest. "Argh!" A violent cough ripped through me, and blood sprayed from my lips. My knees gave out. I crashed to the floor as a phantom hand plunged into my chest and tore my soul in half. This feeling... The mate bond... it's breaking! "No! Evelyn!" I screamed at the sky. "Impossible!" The pain grew more intense. I could feel the invisible thread connecting our souls snapping, inch by inch. Every break was like another slice into my heart. "Austen!" Seraphina knelt beside me in terror. "What's wrong?"

] The post contained nine private couple photos spanning our five years together, accompanied by a lengthy, venomous caption: [Wayne Sanford, you lunatic! Just because I stopped loving you and chose Pierre, you weaponize my private life with these disgusting, underhanded tactics? You destroy anything you can't possess, and you call that love? Today I'm telling the world: the man I love is Pierre Hamm. He is my beacon light. I will protect him with everything I have. I will never let a selfish, controlling monster like you hurt him again.] The internet flipped once more: [Another twist? So, the man was the one scorned and flew into a jealous rage?]

She snapped "Please, please Tan leave me alone, I can't go through another breakup crises again" "Fuck" at that instant Tan was short of words, he growled, thrusting a hand through his hair, tousling the ruthlessly styled strands. She walked away, there had been a time she would have surrendered to that lure, cuddled against that tall frame and inhaled his scent let him cup her hip and the nape of her neck, press himself against her. Felt his cock nudge her stomach, promising her exquisite pleasure unlike anything she had ever known.

“Fair. It usually wins, though.” “Yeah,” I sighed. “It’s undefeated.” *** I bought a random poetry book just to justify my emotional breakdown in public, then headed for the park across the street. I sat on a bench near the pond, flipping through the pages without really reading. The poems blurred together — words about love, loss, longing — all the L’s I didn’t want to deal with. My brain, meanwhile, had decided to replay last night on an endless loop. The dinner. The laughter. The look he gave me right before everything fell apart.

I feel like I am doing all wrong but being a rapper was all I ever wanted and I'm getting there. I do not know why I still feel empty. Heading home, I feel an urge to write, I grab a pencil and a piece of paper and start to write. Twenty minutes later the song is finished. It was a break up song, different from everything I ever did. Is about Adam. Putting my head in the pillow, I think about us repeatedly. I love him, always loved him, I cannot live without him. I have to make things right but I don't know how.

People don't hate ghosts. Our time together was pretty short, but it was also the best time of my life. Now that you're gone, I feel empty. Without you, I feel broke like half a whole. Without you, I've got no hand to hold. Without you, I feel like a torn sail in a storm. Without you, I'm just a sad song. You broke my heart, but I still love you with all the pieces and I'll always do. Take good care of yourself. Love,

“Maybe take a breath before you go back for seconds.” “I write breakup songs for a living,” I say. “Gutting is part of the process.” “You don’t usually do it with the person in question ten feet away behind glass,” he says. “Twice.” I sink onto the couch, elbows on my knees, head in my hands. “I had to say it,” I mumble. “All of it. Somewhere.” “You did,” he says. “With a very expensive microphone.” “Does it bother you?” I ask without looking up. “Hearing yourself like that?”

but he had refused to listen, even a goodbye, he had refused to listen. Finally, this hurricane love torn them apart, leaving them empty souls and broken hearts. That night, Sarah wrote her last poem. '' I look at you, but you're getting further away. I beg, I kneel but you're getting further. Even my broken heart knows so without breathing a single word. I only look at you, who is so eagerly leaving. Breaking again, mourning again, my love who I loved like my own life. I try to calm my heart and hold it, but my heart is crying again.