Historias de Poetess

MELANCHOLY | MAY GARNER | AVAILABLE ON AMAZON!    This melancholy drips from my fingertips so slowly you begin to forget I ever existed. All of me - the parts of flesh you never quite learned to love slips quietly down the drain. I am waiting for the day your fingers unscrew the pipes, dig through the mess, scrape your heart against rust, just to find me again, so we can do it all over. Here, in these pages, I find myself. In ink pressed against my flesh, I whisper the sadness, the heartache, the decay meant for all the unspoken.    A Poetry Collection by May Garner. Original poems regarding real life experiences. Cover created on Canva. 2026. Melancholy copyright © May Garner. 2026. All Rights Reserved.

"...and when the most beautiful thing is broken." 🖤Highest Rank - #23 Poetry 🖤Honourable Mentions- @Project-Seraph {The Seraph Awards} ©StellaKathrin

Poems!

Poetry written under the moonlight. Please read it and comment, if you can relate! Thank you.

nyctophilia ; (n.) an attraction to darkness or night; finding relaxation or comfort in the darkness. a collection of my words from my instagram poetry page @poetryxpeace. IMAGES USED ARE NOT MINE.

Each word spun around till there was something. --- "All I had to do was to put letters together; then I strung them to words until there was a poem."

poetry that has slipped between the noose and my neck; poetry from me, poetry to you.

*Featured on the official wattpad poetry profile* (13/7/20) 'Emotions in my words, The things I cannot say, I keep them and it hurts, So I put them here to lay.' A collection of poems written by an emotionally unstable teenager. 2nd place in the star dazzle awards Beautiful cover made by @dumplingbabe

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This was my first attempt, do not come for me

clouds, painted with ink.

Tanzanite and Tourmaline are identical in which Tanzanite is older and Tourmaline is younger. The both of them aren't really the typical kind of twins, like they're each other's soul sister, best friend, and have the same tastes. Many people call them the Twinkles. However, when their cousin goes missing, they uncover a disturbing truth that threatens the tarnishing of their reputation.

Words from the deepest parts of Eudaimonia -Eudaimonia🌻

There's something exquisite about flowers, especially the rose. No matter what the color it is, no matter how beautiful it is, it can't exist without the thorns beneath. Flowers can symbolize love, passion, joy and yet we use lilies to show that we're sad. Man is beautiful; his happiness is beautiful, man has so many virtues but we can never forget the demons beneath. Maybe that's why poets, we admire and love roses so much they somewhat represent us.

"Everyone talks about love like it's a beautiful rose, admiring its petals, worshipping them even, but no one mentions the thorns." Someone told me heartbreak makes good poetry, so here I am.

Detangling my thoughts into words.. I hope you might understand, relate, like or even love it. I hope my poems resonate with everyone out there. I hope that you feel something or feel that someone said what you were thinking of or wanting to say. If no one else does just remember this writer cares about you. Anyway I'm just trying to rhyme my thoughts and praying that someone likes it. Do comment your reviews. Plus you can message me any prompts or topics you would like me to write in your name. Love and Light always

"We poets bleed blue, don't we?" "This book is an embodiment of the plight of an imperfect soul, in desire of the perfect life, which was never hers to seek..." One night, all lights went out. Shadowed by ultimate darkness, I stepped down the stairs with any hope of just finding a torch, but failed. With eyes drowned in fear of the dark and a weak heart, I was completely occupied by the darkness, which stood there as a silent witness to my suffering. I stayed lonely, still with the a tiny hope of finding the thinnest ray of light, but finally became an inhabitant of the darkness where I felt home. Yeah, I did tumble over the stairs, I fell, I bled, I slipped again over the tears I shed, and all of this pain, dark blue blood, sweat, tears which rolled infinitely, concretised to form the poems I write, the poems which help me fly towards light, through which I write off my fear, I learn to endure the pain and endear the end. I now think back if I really need the light, now that I have learnt loneliness, when loved, turns into solitude, which has its own bliss... Only through this journey did I learn that my true, inner Persona was nothing like what I had known before - It had been darker, and had longed for the light that it could never seek, which I now wish to present it with through my poems... They never lied when the said, "Pain presents us with poetry, which heals the scars if you were capable of succumbing it; Pain gives birth to a thousand poets..." Every sad poem is a diary of that victim of pain, who calls herself a poetess, as I do... Ps.: the book has been edited recently. Persona is the name of my diary here. Not all poems are sad, but most of them are, but I promise, they won't disappint you...

M e r a k i (ma-rak-e) - Greek (v.) to do something with soul, creativity, or love, to put something of yourself into your work. if you want others to look at your creation and appreciate its beauty then you have to merge yourself into your work, it is only your beauty that makes that work worth watching. This is a collection of original poetry by a 19-year-old, who still has to feel a lot of emotions to understand life more.

A book about love and heartbreak and all beautiful things.

oeuvres : azra linn : zhera aragon : ndanielle aragon : xaèl volkzstridge : dós supremó : nvosqeisne : arqlouisse : caelīna