Prettier Than a Broken Heart

If I could write to you of sorrow, if I could explain this devastation,
I’d use words like utterly, and calamity, and grief.

But the words refuse my bidding, choosing to cloak themselves in darkness and half formed thoughts instead.

They shuffle off their course like drunken sailors, lose their way somewhere between half-hearted and dejected.

With quivering chins and sagging limbs, I’ve not the strength to make them dance
to fool a broken heart into being
prettier than it ever is.

Author: ebonyandcrows

Hello and welcome to my page~ My name is Larisa--a very common Slavic name that was either derived from the Latin word hilaris, meaning "cheerful," or from the Greek city of Larissa, meaning "strong fortress." Born in Ukraine, I emigrated with my family to America when I was still a small child and now make my home in the beautiful Pacific Northwest. Growing up immersed in two vastly differing cultures led me to have a burning curiosity about people all over the world. Stemming from said curiosity, I have fallen in love with traveling to other countries, meeting new people and delving into their culture, exploring new cities, and of course, dining on the local cuisine! If I cannot escape into a different country, then my next favorite method of adventure is to lose myself in a spectacular book. I enjoy books of all genres--from fiction and novels, to biographies and ethnographies. As long as it captures my fancy and holds me spellbound the entire time, I will burn through the book like a forest fire! Because of this penchant for reading and travel, coupled with my love of deep and mysterious things, I have been often called a dreamer and I find the title suits me. With that being said, I invite you to stay a while, perhaps make yourself a cup of tea and linger through my posts and feel free to comment or share a thought :-)

39 thoughts on “Prettier Than a Broken Heart”

  1. There’s such beauty in your melancholy, Larisa.
    “If I could write to you of sorrow, if I could explain this devastation, I’d use words like utterly, and calamity, and grief.”
    Unfortunately, one must experience this to write about it so eloquently.

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  2. Thank you for writing this. This has been my dwelling place for so long. For two years now, I have not had the words, there has only been the rage of my emotions, the tears, the feeling of being shattered. Just yesterday I made myself sit down and write my first words to process, but the words are just too small. So again thank you for writing something that has been my place.
    Giada

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    1. Giada, it’s my pleasure that this was able to touch you like it did. My heart goes out to you because you commented about my own experience as well. My grief has lasted far longer than 2 years, and I’m still processing through the pain and disappointment. The platitude that things get better with time is not actually true, they only get better if you choose to fight for it. Time is only involved because of the amount it takes to continue to fight for your healing. Believe me, there were many times I just wanted to rage and burn and bring everyone down with me. Thank you for gracing my poem with your own experience—it’s for reasons like this that I write ♥️ Sending love and support xoxo

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      1. Thanks Larisa, I agree with you about time and having to fight for healing. “Being strong” is one of the phrases I chafe at often, being told I am so strong when in reality I feel weak and vulnerable. I get the point someone else is making but it always comes across to be as cliche. I do not want to be strong, and what I want is not possible. You learn and you grow in new directions, but the scars are still there. Grieving the loss of what could have been. Anyway thank you again, love and support.
        Giada

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        1. Absolutely! Thinking about how others may be going through even a harder time than you only made me feel worse, and, quite frankly, there was nothing in the world that can make it feel better. I actually hated it even when people told me that I AM strong because they had no idea what they were talking about. I was merely surviving. Unfortunately, people are trite more often than not, especially when it comes to someone else’s grief. The ugly parts of being alive are uncomfortable for people to talk about and they shield themselves with platitudes. It’s why I never really opened up to anyone about how hard I was struggling. I pray that you find the peace and healing that you are looking for xoxo

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        2. In re-reading your comment, I realized I misunderstood what you said about being strong. I ready it as people telling you to BE strong, but in reality, you experienced the exact same thing that I did— cringing when people commented on how strong you are. I couldn’t agree more!! We never asked to bear the mantle of having to be strong, so being commended for it was like pouring salt in a wound.

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    1. Thank you! It’s funny, anytime I sit down to write, I have to do it in a roundabout way because if I think directly upon the thing I want to write about, it completely escapes me. The images come to my mind abstractly and in my periphery. Kind of like they are already there and I just have to be still enough to catch them. Thank you for reading!

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        1. The solitude is really getting to me as well. I work at a non profit organization, and even though I can still come into the office to do my work, the emptiness of the building looms down on me sometimes, and with the darkness setting in at 4pm, sometimes it’s too hard to bear. I had to leave early yesterday because it was one of those days.

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          1. I can understand why that would be worse than working at home. We live in a sub tropic zone but it still gets below freezing in winter, occasionally, and it gets dark early. My SAD is almost as bad as it was in the UK! I dream of hibernating with a fat bear… 🐻

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  5. Dear Larisa, I think I’ll cry if I start unravelling all that your poem made me feel – so I won’t even attempt it and just praise your storytelling artistry from the reader’s point of view. Those sailors and cloaked words gave me the teasing glimpse of a story – shrouded in dark grief, merging into a glittering heart towards the end…

    “I’ve not the strength to make them dance
    to fool a broken heart into being prettier than it ever is”.

    My, my! I would keep this poem on my bedside to read in the loneliest hour! 😘

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      1. That is such a beautiful thought! Words are so healing… Whether while writing a poem, or reading how another felt about it… I understand what you felt while writing that. ❤️

        I’m hanging in there, my dear friend! Hopeful for the days and the year that lie ahead.

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  9. I agree with the V pub, your melancholy is spoken so gorgeously. Wisps of sadness and soreness. I have had trouble with my own sad aura being called beautiful. I have glimpsed within this how it might work to inspire such feeling. ❤️
    Quite lovely

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  13. Wonderful words yet again my friend, and my god I felt this line in particular in my very core:

    “But the words refuse my bidding, choosing to cloak themselves in darkness and half formed thoughts instead.”

    Sometimes the words come easy, sometimes they fight you every step of the way. But you won this battle, for sure. Great stuff!

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