Broken Heart Poems To Him Novels & Stories

'You need a wholesome Luna, not one that is as broken I am', I told him gently. 'What good is a wholesome Luna if my heart remains elsewhere?' he asked, his heart in his eyes. 'You are the one I want and though you feel heartbroken, you are wholesome to me!' he declared, and came to sit beside me, holding my hands. 'And if you are really broken, I shall piece you together and mend you with my love!'

And now he's gone, leaving me alone and broken. I sink to the ground, unable to stand. Tears stream down my face, blurring my vision. I clutch my chest, trying to ease the ache. But it's useless. Nothing can fill the void he has left in me. Nothing can make me whole again. I'm shattered, like a glass vase that has fallen from a great height. I can't be fixed, I can't be saved. I'm doomed to live in this misery, this emptiness, this darkness.

Not hurting enough, apparently. “And if this is my last night with you, I don’t want to sleep across the hall.” He moved between my legs then lowered himself to his knees so we would be at eye level with each other. His large hands grabbed my hips and dragged me closer to him, bringing our chests together. He glanced at my lips before he looked at me again. “I don’t wear my heartbreak on my sleeve. I don’t shed tears. But just because I seem indifferent doesn’t mean that’s how I feel. You’re the only woman in the world who has ever meant anything to me. I would die for you—always. You won’t be part of my life, but that doesn’t mean you won’t have my heart. You’ll always have it with you, no

I said with a laced of bitterness. He lowered his head and gently caressed my wet cheek, so I opened my mouth to let in a small breath as tears welled in my eyes. “How can I heal your broken heart if the cause is wasn’t me?” he whispered.

"If it was a piece of paper, I would tear it. If it was a bottle, I would break it, if it was a wall, I would tear it down - But it's my heart" ~Mahmoud Darwish The words sunk so deeply, creating a large gap in my soul. There was just something so devastatingly beautiful about romantic poetry, I loved it to no end. The idea of loving someone to the point that you yearn for them, their very person, every inch of their skin, every habit of theirs, every peculiar trait is picked, loved and immortalized.

His promises, once filled with hope and certainty, had been left unfulfilled, shattered by the circumstances that neither of them had expected. Isla could feel the weight of his sorrow as if it were her own, the heaviness of the love they once shared and the heartache of its loss pressing against her chest. She couldn’t help but cry, the tears coming unbidden, as the depth of his pain resonated deep within her. The ache in his voice was a mirror of the ache in her own heart—a pain that was familiar, one they had both carried in different ways. In that moment, she understood, perhaps for the first time, the true extent of the wounds they had both suffered.

I completely forgot that people spoke their minds while intoxicated. The look that he gave me suggested that if there was even the slightest possibility of him forgiving me before she came in, it was all gone now. “I’ll see you during the game, Blake. And my request from earlier still stands: let’s break up.” I had heard others talk about heartbreak that was crippling and I thought they were just exaggerating. In that moment though, when the love of my life stormed out of one of my best friends’ kitchen, I understood what it meant to be paralyzed by a heart that was shattering into a million irreparable pieces and not be able to do a damn thing about it.

He ran a trembling hand through his hair, trying to breathe, but every inhale felt like glass scraping down his throat. He thought he had hit rock bottom days ago. He realized now that heartbreak had deeper levels,darker, more silent rooms he hadn’t known existed. His vision blurred slightly, but he forced the tears back. He wouldn’t cry. Not again. Not over the same woman who had broken him twice in one lifetime. But he couldn’t look away from the screen. Not yet. Not when the caption refreshed before his eyes, updated with a new tag. One that burned. @AkihikoTakedaOfficial

His shoulders rise and fall rapidly with pent-up anger radiating off him. “I lost our baby. Didn’t I?” I pull back and look at him, using the back of my hand to wipe my nose. “Yes.” He hoarsely grounds out in English as he looks down at me with tears threatening his eyes. “No….” I cry out, and he crushes me to him. So he wasn’t able to ruin me physically, just emotionally destroyed me. My heart begins to feel heavy with heartache, and I can understand how a broken heart can be the death of you.

🥀 CLARA'S POV 🥀 My heart felt like it had been shattered into a million pieces, each one piercing my soul like a shard of glass. The pain was overwhelming, a crushing weight that threatened to consume me. I felt empty, and hollow, like a part of me had been ripped away. Every breath I took felt like a struggle, every beat of my heart a reminder that the person I love would never love me back. My heart was broken, extremely broken, and I didn't know how to put it back together again. All I could do was hold on to the fragments, and hope that someday, somehow, I would find a way to heal.