Broken Hearts Gallery Literary

We’ve all been there. Somewhere along your path in life someone or something has broken your heart, and maybe like me, you’ve held onto the detritus left in its wake. If so, this is the literary project for you.

Waiting

by Chris Lihou

She’d been waiting patiently for nearly eighteen months. Not that she wished for a short wait. He had every reason to enjoy time without her, having put his life on hold to be her full-time caregiver. The plot next to hers was reserved for when he was ready.

Chris Lihou has an addiction to writing very short stories, three collections of which are now available via Amazon.

A Little Light at Christmas

by Sarah Brent

Thanks, tarted up. No expectations. A light in the darkness because you seemed sad. You took it and ran. Turned it into a blaze. When I said wait—feelings. No surprises. Wife. Plastered ‘Fond Memories’ across a ghost story. Left me stuck in the ice.

Sarah is a trainee teacher who writes stories from the comfort of her basement.

Writers Support Group

by T.L. Tomljanovic @Wilovic

A dog in a chicken suit. That’s all it took. Called it AI slop. Right vs. wrong. Shots fired across messenger: tone policing, pearl clutching, misogyny, racism. A left, then B, then C… A conversation thread spooling back years holding the weight of a confessional cut like a loose thread.

T.L. Tomljanovic is a several times nominated, but zero times winning flash fiction writer toiling away in obscurity. @tomljanovic.bsky.social @TLTomljanovic (Twitter)

Heartsick

by Madeleine Armstrong @madeleine_write

They said they could fix your leaky valves. But it was too late. I watched you wither in a hospital bed, holding a beaker for the man who could no longer hold it himself. The man who used to throw me into the air and always, always catch me.

Madeleine Armstrong lives in London and has her heart broken on an almost daily basis by abandoned baby garments and fox-mauled soft toys. Twitter/X: @madeleine_write; Bluesky: @madeleinewrite.bsky.social

Nothing Left

by Sam Calhoun @weatherman_sam

We emptied your bowl
to entice the mice
elsewhere—

The feeding tray stands
like eyes above
every toy—

It was dark when I found
the mouse trapped,
hungry—

It was light
when you
left me—

Sam Calhoun is the author of six chapbooks, and lives in Elkmont, Alabama.

Adam, Remember Fashion Class? 

by Jay Honstetter @friendstergram

It’s the mid 90s. Laughing at the noise on our faces, flannels draping our bones.
It’s the 2000s. We’re at Cavestomp! Fred Perry-clad. We prefer The High Numbers to The Who.
We’re at Wowsville, Generation, 99X, San Loco. NYC.
2026. We’re in Pennsylvania.
Then we’re not.

What were you thinking?

Jay Honstetter is a writer, former music snob, and year-round cold brew connoisseur. Bluesky: @jayhonstetter.bsky.social

Peacock Sighting

by Beth Sherman @bsherm36

We watched the bird rattle his blue green, eye-spotted train. The mating season was over and tail feathers dropped to the grass – useless beauty. You saw a souvenir of our London trip. I saw a quilled pen, symbol of creativity, little guessing I’d wind up writing about love’s end.   

Beth Sherman is the author of How to Get There from Here, a novella-in-flash published by Ad Hoc Fiction in July.  Twitter/Bluesky @bsherm36

A light shining through the trees in a yard that is dark.

Take me away, Ambulance

by Shawn Scott Smith @luckycreature

On the drive home, I see the ambulance at the nursing home,
lights twirling in a dance of death and hope.


I arrive home and you quickly go to bed, avoiding me.
It’s too hard to tell you, to say the words,
that someone might be dying up the road. 

I write short things and play pinball. @luckycreature on Bluesky/X

Puppy Love

by Steven Lemprière @stevenlempriere

A dog has entered my life; they’re a rescue and, like me, someone dumped them. She’s a bitch, and calling your name — another commonality — will see her bound in my direction. Nowadays, I’m easily amused. Another upside: Ellie’s house trained, and unlike you, she hasn’t shat on me. 

Steven, a man of few words, often fifty, jumbles letters and life. X: @StevenLempriere, Bluesky: @stevenlempriere.bsky.social

Overthinker

by G. Lynn Brown @micromancemagazine

She thought. Too much. About everything. Mostly about him. His blue eyes, his crooked smile. One day, she told him her thoughts. About how much she loved him. And when he told her what he thought, that she shouldn’t think of him anymore, her thoughts dripped from her eyelashes.

G. Lynn Brown is a 2x Pushcart Prize nominee, writer, poet, editor, and a hopelessly hopeful romantic with a permanently cracked heart. X:  @gail_lynn_eic

First

by Lisa Thornton @thorntonforreal

I climbed out my window to you and the rest of my life. Left the Social Distortion tapes and pink bedspread behind. You taught my heart how to hurt. We walked on the moonlit sidewalk holding sweaty hands until you chose her instead, in the middle of another starry night. 

Lisa Thornton lives in Illinois near the tornado siren and the park with the baseball diamond. 

@thorntonforreal.bluesky.social

Art Lit Club

by Melissa Flores Anderson @theirishmonths

A last-minute invite from the club pres, and I didn’t realize you would be there, too, in the backseat of her mom’s car, smelling of CK One. We sat in darkness, enveloped in plush red seats. You watching, listening, eating Red Vines. Me, breathless and too young for you.

Melissa Flores Anderson edits the Broken Hearts Literary Gallery and collaborates with Roi Fainéant Press. X and Bluesky: melissacuisine

For Better or Worse

by Tracie Adams @tracieadams1966

A beaded dress that weighed more than me, Great Danes in our bed, Sunday afternoon barbeques, chicken skin sizzling with chimichurri, positive pregnancy test, keyboard on the kitchen table, singing off pitch, unanswered calls, sleepless nights, lies, custody papers, moving boxes. It’s the dogs, your sisters, your mother I miss.

Tracie Adams, a retired educator and playwright, is the author of two memoirs, Our Lives in Pieces and Not Finished Yet, and the mom to four kids, six grands, and more animals than she can count. Bluesky @tracieadams X @1funnyfarmAdams Substack @tracieadams 

A plate with a child's drawing on it with a black figure a flower and a pink house with a blue sky.

Maybe You’re There, Hidden in the Pink House

by Johannah Simon

Ask her about the drawing. Force a smile when she explains it’s daddy. Ask where mommy is. Choke down your tears when she tells you mommy isn’t in the picture because she’s always at work. Hope one day she’ll understand the sacrifices you made for her. 

Johannah Simon is a corporate schemer and professional dreamer. X @JohannahWrites   Bsky @Johannah  IG @JohannahCanWrite