Hauntingwords Histoires

In the quiet hours when the world sleeps, the shadows awaken. This collection walks the line between night and soul, tracing the fractures left by pain, trauma, and the weight of unseen battles. Here, moonlight does not simply illuminate-it exposes, reflects, and whispers truths too often left unspoken. Within these pages, you will wander through darkness that clings to the edges of being, feel the sting of cruel words, and confront the echoes of loneliness. Yet even in despair, there is a pulse-a fragile thread of light that glimmers in the depths of the night. These poems are not gentle. They do not pretend the world is kind. But they are honest, raw, and intimate. They are a mirror for those who have felt the cold brush of shadows and a lantern for those seeking the faint glimmer of moonlight in endless darkness. Step quietly. Listen closely. The night has stories to tell.

Ashes is a collection surrounding the decay of the aftermath. The ruin that exists without apology. These works give voice to the quiet at the end, when all else fails. The solemn feeling of goodbye, coiled with the start of something new.

Althea only wanted to write poems and stories. But when her words began to bleed with meanings she couldn't escape, she realized- some stories don't just get written. They consume you.

Quiet, unbearable weight of what never gets said the truths that die with us, the words we carry but never speak, the 'if only I could' that lingers in every corner of life. Haunting, intimate, and raw, not performative this is the poetry of silence itself. Fully honest, fully deep, fully Miss F.

Whispers you weren't meant to hear. Realities you weren't supposed to question. In this anthology of dark psychological sci-fi, each story is a fracture - a glimpse through the cracks of the mind, where identity, time, and truth slip and bleed. Here, nothing is linear. Characters speak to themselves, to you, and sometimes... to something far older. Voices echo from behind mirrors, behind doors that shouldn't exist, behind versions of yourself that never should've been. Every page is a trapdoor. Every sentence, a test. And if you're reading this... You've already been heard.

"Thoughts that Fester in the Brain" is a haunting collection of poetry that explores the depths of loneliness, heartbreak, and despair. Each poem captures the raw emotions of feeling lost, forgotten, and unseen in a world that offers no solace. For those who have ever felt the weight of isolation or the ache of unfulfilled love, this book is a reflection of those darkest moments, where sadness lingers and hope feels distant. A journey into the heart of human suffering, this collection offers no comfort-only the truth of what it means to feel truly alone.

This isn't poetry. These are places that only begin to exist the moment you think about them for too long. Chapels that listen instead of praying. Cities that forget their own edges. Mirrors that remember you before you ever managed to save yourself. Every text is a trace of something that was never meant to be spoken. Every sentence an echo that doesn't know if it still belongs to the living world. And if you feel something breathing too close here... you're not reading this for the first time.

You're my sweetest regret.

Every tear he shed was pathetic him.

Poems about fear, hope, and the faith it takes to stand in the dark and still call it home.

"As I Disappear" is a haunting exploration of an artist's descent into despair, told through raw, poetic introspection. Caught in the chasm between creation and destruction, the narrator wrestles with the fading of purpose, the emptiness of inspiration, and the crushing weight of existence. Words, once their salvation, now mock them as the muse vanishes, leaving behind only silence and void. This is not just a story-it's a confrontation with the fragility of art, identity, and meaning. Each line cuts deeper into the soul, unraveling the delicate balance between beauty and pain, longing and loss. As the artist questions their very existence, the narrative teeters on the edge of life and oblivion, leaving the reader to wonder: What remains when the ink runs dry? Prepare to immerse yourself in a tale that blurs the lines between poetry and prose, creation and self-destruction-a journey that is as beautiful as it is unsettling.

The words that lived in silent hearts, Never spoken, yet full of parts.

A journey through the fragments of self, the questions we hide, and the echoes we chase. A raw reflection of identity, love, and the masks we wear.

"A raw dive into grief, emptiness, and haunting resonance. Read slowly. Feel it in your bones. This is for the lost, the silent, the unbroken."

think of this as a safe space for your deep thoughts, you are seen here.

What happens to the words we never speak? This is a poem about unsent letters, silent confessions, and the kind of love that lingers like a forgotten melody. It's for the ones who wrote their hearts on paper but never sent it. For those who loved quietly, painfully, beautifully... under a sky that never answered back.

I bleed into verses not in veins

Hooker: (I write, you read. Own your words, or else the ink they escape from will bleed, leaving a mark that cannot be erased. The irony, that the flee was never an escape.) ♥️ This story is an enchants, A conspiracy an unwritten ,unsolved puzzle . A story of both thrill and pain. Wishing they both weren't the same. The poem encircles both the heartbreak of an individuals life , a special bond that has been token away, not by choice but by circumstance. RED INK, I present to all of my dearest readers. I hope you all enjoy the poem of fantasy ♥️ ✨ This poem took a lot of energy and effort to complete.My inner poet came out to play, intervening two distinct yet same tones, that I wish will touch your heart and connect to your soul like it did to mine while in making. Thank you all so much LOVE YOU!! Please show some love to my page by liking.commenting and sharing, please feel free to let me know any ideas or wishes you would like to see next ♥️♥️

To live is to suffer