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How-tos for all things poetry; learn how to analyze a poem, construct a haiko, differentiate between a metaphor and simile and more.
Beyond the Breaking Point
Often, it's not that you don't want to let go, but that you can't, because the relationship hasn't reached its natural end. Don’t rush or force yourself to find an answer. Deep down, you know you should leave, but your body won't budge.
By Emily Chan - Life and love sharing25 days ago in Poets
A Recipe for Nostalgia
Preheat the evening to dusk, when the light turns everything soft enough to forgive. Start with one smell you can't explain—strawberry fields rushing past as she pressed against your back, her arms around you a sign that you make her feel safe. Set your heart to high heat—to that night the security guard found you, his knuckles on glass like shouts in a cathedral, interrupting a sacred moment of worship. Bake with her simple joy until the air remembers how she pulled you onto that dance floor, her hips already fluent in a language your feet were still stuttering. At exactly half-past back when, press play on the song that made her throw her head back laughing when you made up your own words. Let the first chord open the trapdoor under your ribs. Find the old hoodie she borrowed and hold it like a saint's garment (Over-handling may cause her perfume to fade). If it still fits, that's how you know nostalgia is lying; if it doesn't, that's how you know it's working. Add the longing in slowly—enough to swell every memory of her groaning at your puns, but not so much it leaks into regret. Mix in the three words she finally said for the first time ever. Scatter Polaroids on the counter, shuffle hands until every card shows her mid-laugh at something terrible you said. Fold-in the way her body twinged in anticipation when you’d gently touch it. Beat the urge to call her. Decorate with her last name—the one she planned to leave behind for you. Prepare for the ache in your temples; remember, this is a side effect, not a symptom. Garnish with the voicemail she left on your birthday, that you saved to listen to when you wanted to think of her. Serve in porcelain chipped by other lives. Nostalgia is best when shared, but may also be consumed shamelessly, in the blue glow of the fridge at 2 am. Store leftovers in your chest cavity. Reheat as necessary.
By SUEDE the poet25 days ago in Poets
room for rage. Runner-Up in Instructions for a Feeling Challenge. Top Story - February 2026.
let it out. . start with the plates: break them. watch them shatter on graffiti-covered concrete. scream. scream until you've shredded your voice, your lungs, your throat to
By Raistlin Allen26 days ago in Poets
