The delicate, fragile glass that was our trust.

              And now what do we call it? What do we call these little, sharp, jagged reminders of the catastrophe that happened, the debacle that was once so delightful?

              We call it Pain. What it means to feel something within you…


The deafening silence, say something, please, speak up,  don’t you always have so much to say? Just, please, for once, just tell him the truth. But I can’t, I can’t say it out loud. All I can do is continue to


The promises I made for you, I thought I really meant them, I had the best intentions…


Apart the world we once lived in, so carefree


The boards that kept our ship of hope intact and afloat


the rungs of an endless ladder we were once able to climb so easily


Your spirit, once so tough, so valiant and willing, now crushed, defeated, destroyed….

Broken. So many different ways…

Broken. Too damaged to repair, 


It’ll never be the same.


Along with all the other tender beating hearts I thought I loved so much.

 I will break.

I have broken.

I am broken without you. You are broken, because of me. How much more can one soul take before it can no longer 




This poem is about: 
My family


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741