That afternoon on the terrace I knew from the start what was coming. You had to find the courage to tell me and you did.
I cried. It was the cold hard facts that you had found a new love interest. I still had so much affection for you, but you responded uncaring , aloof, without emotion as tho~ our love never existed.
My fragil heart was shattered into pieces by your heart of stone~ well I suppose I'll have to get over it, after all, losing in love is so common these days,and I do believe Everything happens for a reason
I'll go onward to a new day in the sun and find the one who will own my warm heart forever~ that is after I mend it.I have accepted the lost feelings you once felt for me~ I mean what's the point or purpose in begging you to stay?
Clearly you don't seem to need or, want me, nor see or talk to me anymore. Yes, I was feeling so down, sad, lonely and blue That Afternoon, and then it started to rain again.
This is heartfelt and sincere but it's hard to call it a poem in the true sense, rather oganised prose with some well worn phrases ie, 'fragil heart was shattered into pieces by your heart of stone','go onward to a new day in the sun','I was feeling so down, sad, lonely and blue'.
I'm not critising the idea rather the execution. Actually, your first and last lines are the real diamonds here. An afternoon on a terrace, and an afternoon suddenly deluging with rain again are wonderful images.
In between there is less restaint and poise - sometimes you don't need to tell everything, and with poetry, often less is more.
This is heartfelt and sincere but it's hard to call it a poem in the true sense, rather oganised prose with some well worn phrases ie, 'fragil heart was shattered into pieces by your heart of stone','go onward to a new day in the sun','I was feeling so down, sad, lonely and blue'.
I'm not critising the idea rather the execution. Actually, your first and last lines are the real diamonds here. An afternoon on a terrace, and an afternoon suddenly deluging with rain again are wonderful images.
In between there is less restaint and poise - sometimes you don't need to tell everything, and with poetry, often less is more.