Poetry Sad Love Quotes & Sayings

Why do we smile? Why do we laugh? Why do we feel alone? Why are we sad and confused? Why do we read poetry? Why do we cry when we see a painting? Why is there a riot in the heart when we love? Why do we feel shame? What is that thing in the pit of your stomach called desire? — Benjamin Alire Saenz

He offered his love ... she could not bother,
She gives her love to the other! The other! — E.A. Bucchianeri

When I read Spencer Madsen's poetry, I not only feel awe because he's so good, one of the best, but I also think about how everything in the world is happening at the same time, and how the world we get to know is so heavily edited down. It's the hugest, weirdest feeling. I wish Spencer Madsen could be everywhere at once. I really love You Can Make Anything Sad. — Dennis Cooper

May be its mine bad-luck
Or yours not to get me
But I still have hope
Of being yours — Hasil Paudyal

I collect my thoughts, I choose my words,
Whenever I decide to talk to you.

But...

I feel like a dumb, without a tongue,
Whenever I reach in front of you.

I wonder why it happens to me?
even when my feelings are genuine and true. — Saad Salman

Where the cheerful children
of unwritten poems,
play all around,
you will find me there. — Khadija Rupa

I'm supposed to a man who never blows his composure
A boy trapped in a war, forced to be a solider
The weight of the world just put on top of my shoulders
But if there's one thing I know for sure
It's that my mind has had its exposure
And my emotional turmoil has finally had its closure — Tommy Tran

Leaning into the afternoons I cast my sad nets
towards your oceanic eyes.
There in the highest blaze my solitude lengthens and flames,
its arms turning like a drowning man's.
I send out red signals across your absent eyes
that smell like the sea or the beach by a lighthouse.
You keep only darkness, my distant female,
from your regard sometimes the coast of dread emerges.
Leaning into the afternoons I fling my sad nets
to that sea that is thrashed by your oceanic eyes.
The birds of night peck at the first stars
that flash like my soul when I love you.
The night gallops on its shadowy mare
shedding blue tassels over the land. — Pablo Neruda

You read between the wrong lines. — Christina Strigas

It is so dark now with the sadness of
people
they were tricked, they were taught to expect the
ultimate when nothing is
promised
now young girls weep alone in small rooms
old men angrily swing their canes at
visions as
ladies comb their hair as
ants search for survival
history surrounds us
and our lives
slink away
in
shame. — Charles Bukowski

To Hope

Oh, Hope! thou soother sweet of human woes!
How shall I lure thee to my haunts forlorn!
For me wilt thou renew the wither'd rose,
And clear my painful path of pointed thorn?
Ah come, sweet nymph! in smiles and softness drest,
Like the young hours that lead the tender year,
Enchantress! come, and charm my cares to rest: -
Alas! the flatterer flies, and will not hear!
A prey to fear, anxiety, and pain,
Must I a sad existence still deplore?
Lo! - the flowers fade, but all the thorns remain,
'For me the vernal garland blooms no more.'
Come then, 'pale Misery's love!' be thou my cure,
And I will bless thee, who, tho' slow, art sure. — Charlotte Turner Smith

Dreaming of getting you
I loosed everything
Cheerfulness of smile
And all the dreams of life — Hasil Paudyal

Remember this when you leave me here: that your sweetest face and loving voice, I forevermore hold dear. — Chrissy Moon

A thing about poetry is, It takes cuts and pain to bleed words. The deeper the wound is, the more you bleed. And eventually, you will start falling in love with it. But the saddest part is, sometimes there comes a moment when you start to feel that all those wounds on your soul are not enough. And you start cutting yourself deeper, forgetting when to stop. — Akshay Vasu

I can't sleep alone anymore
and I get used to
company
too quickly. You're always gone too soon. — Charlotte Eriksson

If someone knocks on your door, my friend,
and something in your blood beats and rests not
and water in its stem, trembling,
the source is a liquid harmony.
If someone knocks on your door and still
you have time to be beautiful
and fits all April in a rose
and rose bleeds the day.
If someone knocks on your door one morning
sound of doves and bells
and still believe in pain and poetry.
If still life is truth and verse exists.
If someone knocks on your door and you are sad,
open, it is love, my friend. — Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Lying asleep between the strokes of night
I saw my love lean over my sad bed,
Pale as the duskiest lily's leaf or head,
Smooth-skinned and dark, with bare throat made to bite,
Too wan for blushing and too warm for white,
But perfect-coloured without white or red.
And her lips opened amorously, and said
I wist not what, saving one word
Delight.
And all her face was honey to my mouth,
And all her body pasture to my eyes;
The long lithe arms and hotter hands than fire,
The quivering flanks, hair smelling of the south,
The bright light feet, the splendid supple thighs
And glittering eyelids of my soul's desire. — Algernon Charles Swinburne

They don't know I only speak in runaway train stations
and everybody is always a few minutes too late to the platform.
No one has ever gotten the chance to get too close
because it is never romantic to fuck the girl who makes love to her own sadness every single night. — Katelin Wagner

How I used to love the dark, sad evenings of late autumn and winter, how eagerly I imbibed their moods of loneliness and melancholy when wrapped in my cloak I strode for half the night through rain and storm, through the leafless winter landscape, lonely enough then too, but full of deep joy, and full of poetry which later I wrote down by candlelight sitting on the edge of my bed! — Hermann Hesse

I don't analyze beautiful. I sit in its presence and love the wholeness of it--the sweet and sad and raw and bright together.
Poetry is that, the weaving of light-shadow. Making words from the unwordable. — Jacob Nordby

This empty shell holds nothing but the echoes of what was. — Jenim Dibie

Dear Lover...
you are the only man, who never hurt me, but broke my heart. — Lori Jenessa Nelson

Another lover hits the universe. The circle is broken. But with death comes rebirth. And like all lovers and sad people, I am a poet. — Allen Ginsberg

If I could describe myself, I'd say that I am a poetic gerd. (A geek and nerd combo) I love Shakespeare and romance, but sci-fi and action have a big slice of my heart. When I meet a man who can quote some Hitchcock out of thin air, do a perfect 'Timey Whimey' impression, play me some classic rock when I'm sad and can give a 'Gone with the Wind' kiss, I will have my soul mate. — Melanie Kay Taylor

But then you left exactly how all the sad songs said you would — Andrew Faulkner

What I want to know is how you go on when you look around
and don't see anywhere you want to go without the only person
you can't have. — Charlotte Eriksson

I keep breaking things, as if to see what's going on inside of me. — Jenim Dibie

It could be yesterday
when I was less in love
I think
For I didn't see you in the mirror
behind me
while getting dressed.
The way your hands couldn't stay away
and our bodies always found their ways back to each other
as if they were meant to be together
Close.

But then it was today and I saw you
again
in the mirror
behind me while getting dressed

So I go to sleep tonight
alone
without actually falling asleep because I'm scared of the moment I will wake up
and realise it was just a dream
You're actually gone.

Now all I can do is get through to another tomorrow
hoping that I will be less in love
again
Like yesterday

But not today.
I was never really well with things at all. — Charlotte Eriksson

With heart at rest I climbed the citadel's
Steep height, and saw the city as from a tower,
Hospital, brothel, prison, and such hells,
Where evil comes up softly like a flower.
Thou knowest, O Satan, patron of my pain,
Not for vain tears I went up at that hour;
But like an old sad faithful lecher, fain
To drink delight of that enormous trull
Whose hellish beauty makes me young again.
Whether thou sleep, with heavy vapors full,
Sodden with day, or, new appareled, stand
In gold-laced veils of evening beautiful,
I love thee, infamous city! Harlots and
Hunted have pleasures of their own to give,
The vulgar herd can never understand. — Charles Baudelaire

You were the hardest year of my life and I've never been so happy. What does that say about me? — Charlotte Eriksson

there's always been a little sadness inside my happiness.

i've never been able to separate the two. — AVA.

I will miss
my chest exploding
you coming home late
not turning on the light
always waking me up

I will miss
the sudden burst of safety
when you look at me
or hold my hand
or say something like
"let's go home"

I will miss
the years I lost
on something or someone.
The pieces didn't fit, shaped wrong
the timing slightly off.

I loved you like I always will. — Charlotte Eriksson

I stood in your doorway this morning
dreaming you'd turn around
you'd tilt your head
you'd softly whisper "stay"

or that you'd grab my arms
to shake me while asking
what the hell are we doing
we love
each other
and this is not right
so we will make this work
now stay!

You poured your coffee. Stirred the spoon like a crystal man
with your back to me and not a sound. the fridge humming elegies while the clock ticked on
and the streets are so clean here people rushing to work
and maybe I should be too
by now
at this age
this stage
this town.

I will stand in that doorway
dreaming
for many nights to come. — Charlotte Eriksson

Maybe I should stop while I'm ahead

Nay, I swim with sea-demons

no sweet summer tuned radio

over my sunless desertscape

how does it burn without the sun? — Moonshine Noire

there's nothing to
discuss
there's nothing to
remember
there's nothing to
forget

it's sad
and
it's not
sad

seems the
most sensible
thing
a person can
do
is
sit
with drink in
hand
as the walls
wave
their goodbye
smiles

one comes through
it
all
with a certain
amount of
efficiency and
bravery
then
leaves

some accept
the possibility of
God
to help them
get
through

others
take it
staight on

and to these

I drink
tonight. — Charles Bukowski

Cut my life into pizzas. this is my plastic fork. oven baking, no breathing, dont give a fuck if its carbs that i'm eating' -Catherine Spann — Catherine Spann

Darling, even raindrops try to wipe my teardrops but your thoughts haul out more tears from my liquid eyes and then teardrops replace raindrops ... — Abhishek Rath

tears swell
in the wells
of my eyes.
love is a
constant
side effect
of mine. — K.Y. Robinson

Thus we challenge, we hope, we fall.
Thus we ponder, we test, we stall.
Thus we learn, we break, we crawl.
Thus we grow, we learn, walk tall.
Here we try, we cope, & believe.
Here we fail, we win, we achieve.
Here we love, we bond, we need.
Here we travel, we see, we breed.
In faith of another we build and plan.
In faith of another, we trust both good & bad.
in faith of another we lay bare the minds mad.
In faith of another we invest no part of sad.
Let the marks you leave on me not be scars.
Let the marks you leave on me be bright as the stars.
Let these marks never become my eternal bars.
Let these marks mirror those of the love of our Gods.
May my presence bring hope and never harm.
May my light shine boldly with pure solid charm.
May you always remember the smile in my palm.
May my kiss of wisdom grow wildflowers in calm. — Daleen Van Tonder

... he wanted to sleep inside her lungs and breathe her blood and be smothered. He wanted her to be a virgin and not a virgin all at once. He wanted to know her. Intimate secrets: Why poetry? Why so sad? Why that grayness in her eyes? Why so alone? Not lonely, just alone - riding her bike across campus or sitting off by herself in the cafeteria - even dancing, she danced alone - and it was the aloneness that filled him with love. He remembered telling her that one evening. How she nodded and looked away. And how, later, when he kissed her, she received the kiss without returning it, her eyes wide open, not afraid, not a virgin's eyes, just flat and uninvolved. — Tim O'Brien

He wanted to know her. Intimate secrets: Why poetry? Why so sad? Why that grayness in her eyes? Why so alone? Not lonely, just alone - riding her bike across campus or sitting off by herself in the cafeteria - even dancing, she danced alone - and it was the aloneness that filled him with love — Tim O'Brien

From all my dreams where you felt everlasting
to all my clothes your words used to wear,
to the old end, to the new beginning,
you have lost me everywhere. — Khadija Rupa

She was around two. She and Laura went down in a shipwreck. I heard Henry didn't eat or sleep for days. He searched for them for weeks, but there was never any sign of them. There were no survivors." "How sad," she whispered. He touched her chin and turned her liquid eyes toward him. "Don't cry. It happened a long time ago. I'm sure Henry is over it all by now." "Love like that never dies." He smiled. "Such romanticism. No wonder you read poetry." "Does he ever talk about them?" He released her chin and shook his head. "Clara would be in tears if he did. The servants tell how he raved like a madman when he heard the news. Molly said she'd never heard a grown man cry like that. — Colleen Coble

And what I said was I'll miss you,
What I meant to say was that I love you,
What I wanted to say was that I meant what I said
I miss you like I miss my own bed
after too many nights of sleeping on couches
or hardwood floors
Or sitting silently behind the doors
Of hotel rooms became wounds
Breathing life in to this loneliness
I miss you
Like a burn victim must miss their own skin
I miss you like a sad ending
Must miss someplace new to begin
Because some say that the highway becomes a flat line
if you travel it for too long
I can't tell if that's true or false,
But I'm racing down it towards you trying to find my
Pulse. — Shane Koyczan

Everything that drowned me taught me how to swim. — Jenim Dibie