Healingthroughwords Stories

✦ Description ✦ When a dream recalls My forgotten first love - Rehan 💙 'The Year I Learnt To blush' isn't just a love story - it's the story of every teenager who's ever fallen for someone they were never supposed to. From stolen glances across benches to heartbreaks hidden behind laughter, it's about the chaos of growing up - when one smile could ruin your whole day and a single "seen" on Snapchat could make your heart race. It's the story of Rehan, the boy in the blue jacket who unknowingly became poetry - and her, the girl who learnt that love doesn't always need to be returned to feel real. ✨ It's innocent. It's messy. It's heartbreak in its prettiest form. Because sometimes, the smallest moments make the biggest memories. 💫

Cover was made by @LoreleiCVdB A collection of poetry that speaks from the soul-raw, honest, and unfiltered. Each poem is a window into fleeting moments, deep emotions, and timeless reflections. Dive into words that paint pictures, evoke feelings, and capture the beauty of life in its purest form.

"Akansha - When She Started Doubting Herself" is about the kind of hurt that often goes unnoticed-the hurt of constantly being corrected, interrupted, dismissed, or told how to do things, even when you know you are trying your best. Akansha represents someone who is gentle and patient, someone who may not cry or argue when words hurt her. But that doesn't mean those words don't stay with her. When the same things happen again and again, they can slowly affect her confidence, make her hesitate, and make her question herself in ways others may never see. This poem is about those quiet emotional wounds-the ones that don't leave visible scars, but still affect the way a person sees themselves. Sometimes, we don't need advice or correction. Sometimes, we simply need to be heard, understood, and trusted. About the Author - Lavanya Y. Rao I, Lavanya Y. Rao, wrote this poem from a deeply personal place. There have been many moments in my own life when I have felt like Akansha-when I've tried to speak, only to be told that I wasn't being understood, or when I've been constantly corrected about how I should speak, act, walk, drive, or do something. These experiences have happened while talking to my family members as well as many other people in my life. I may not always show when something hurts me. I may stay quiet, smile, or simply move on from the moment. But that doesn't mean I haven't felt it deeply. There are words and moments that stay with us long after the conversation ends. Sometimes they make us question ourselves, our choices, and even the confidence we once had in the simplest things. This poem is a reflection of those feelings-of being misunderstood, constantly corrected, and quietly hurt while still trying to remain kind. These are emotions I have personally experienced and carried with me. If this poem touched something in you, please do vote and leave a comment. Tell me what you felt while reading it. Your support, your words, and your encouragement

About the Poem Sometimes, we don't want the rain because we love getting wet. We want it because, for a little while, we wish it could wash away the things that feel too heavy to carry. When the rain began falling over Delhi around 4:30 PM today, Nora felt that exact longing-to step outside, stand beneath it, and let the rain quiet the memories, thoughts, and emotions that had been weighing on her heart. But she never stepped outside. She only stood by the window, watching the rain, wishing she could come out of it feeling a little lighter. About the Author I'm Lavanya Y. Rao, a new writer who has recently started putting my feelings, thoughts, and emotions into poems. I'm still discovering my voice as a writer, and many of my poems begin with something small that I feel or notice in an ordinary moment. Today, when it started raining in Delhi around 4:30 PM, I had the same feeling Nora has in this poem. I wanted to go outside and simply stand in the rain-to let it wash away some of the heaviness in my mind and make everything feel quiet for a while. Sadly, I couldn't get wet in the rain today. So I gave that feeling to Nora instead. 🤍 If this poem made you feel something, please vote and leave a comment. Your support means everything to me as I begin this journey as a writer. 🥹🤍

#SadQuotes #EmotionalQuotes #MotivationalQuotes #HeartfeltWords #InspirationThroughStruggle #RiseAboveChallenges #HealingThroughWords #EmotionalHealing #StrengthInAdversity #QuotesToLiveBy #FindingHope #TransformingPain #WordsOfEncouragement #JourneyToHealing

the Shadows of Black She saved lives with her hands. She ruled boardrooms with her silence. But when storms rose inside and outside her world, Dr. Shobitha Prasad discovered that even the strongest armor can crack. In a city where hospitals run like empires and billionaires play gods, she stands as both scalpel and shield - fighting for dignity, for justice, and for a love she never thought she'd allow. When Anvith Rajan, India's most powerful business heir, collides with her storm, sparks ignite - but so do enemies. Between politics, betrayal, and the weight of her own scars, Shobitha must choose: to stay hidden in the shadows of black, or to rise as the woman who turns storms into crowns. ✨ A tale of power, love, and resilience - where silence roars, and even shadows can shine like gold.

There are moments in life when a single thought holds the power to change everything. When logic screams one way, but emotions whisper another.

AFRICAN BURDEN by the voice of the soul. They came in ships, cloaked in crosses and crowns, Not to pray with us, but to prey on us. Not to teach us Truth, But to tear it from our Tongues. Chains kissed our wrists like venomous lovers. They ripped our fathers, beat drums out of our mother's breast, and called it Civilization. We bled gold into their coffers. Our diamonds crowned their queens, Our cocoa sweetens their tea, And still they called us Savages. They took our children, not just from wombs But from wisdom - Cut the roots of our languages, burned the libraries in our stories, Then asked why we were silent. In Ghana, in Congo, on plantations from Mississippi to Mauritius, We did not break We bent. Bent under bullets, bent under boots, bent under borders we never Drew, but carry on. They mapped our land, not to understand, But to mine it, divide it, devour it. But listen - Our rivers still run with memory. Our mountains whisper names They tried to erase. Africa is not a wound. She is a warrior. And though her back is burdened, Her spine still sings. We carry Pain, yes. But we carry drums too. Songs still echo in our scars, And our tears water the roots of the generation unbroken.

Pieces of my mind, stitched into verses. Honest. Unfiltered. Mine. © 2025 . All rights reserved. This is a work of original poetry. Any resemblance to other works is purely coincidental. Do not repost or publish without giving proper credit.

She promised she moved on. He acted like nothing happened. But when old love reunite, buried feelings don't stay buried for long. Arpi thought she was done with heartbreak - until one unexpected party, one silent glance, and one boy she once called everything made it all come back. This isn't a love story. It's what happens after the love story ends... and dares to begin again. A tale of silence, glances, tension, and the war between letting go and not being ready to. Welcome to Arpi & Ehaan - raw, complicated, real.

These are the fragments of my mind, scattered and unfiltered. Each thought, a raw pulse, as unpredictable as the last. This is my therapy-my unvarnished truth laid bare. No masks, no shields. Just me, stripped down, between heaven and heart.

Every thought holds the power to stir a silent revolution within. In "Thought-Provoking Tuesday: Thoughts That Made You Pause," author Swaha invites you into a weekly journey of introspection, offering a curated collection of reflections that urge you to slow down, reflect deeply, and reconnect with your inner self. Each page holds a mirror to the unnoticed thoughts that linger quietly in the corners of your mind-those fleeting questions, half-formed ideas, and lingering pauses that deserve a voice. Whether it's a quiet doubt, a surge of emotion, or a moment of unexpected clarity, this book captures the essence of those inner dialogues we often overlook. Perfect for journaling, group discussions, or soulful solo reading every Tuesday, this book is your companion in rediscovering the wisdom hidden in your own thoughts. It doesn't just speak to you-it listens with you. Pause. Reflect. Transform.

Sitting in the quiet of my own mind, I trace the edges of my story with fingertips that know every struggle, every victory, every scar that the world doesn't see. A single rose rests beside me, its petals soft but resilient, reminding me that even in the presence of thorns, beauty grows. This poem is a reflection of purpose discovered in the shadows, of strength forged in silence, of moments that go unnoticed but shape everything. Every line bleeds honesty, every word is a claim to the life I refuse to let go of. The music of my soul hums in the background as I write, as I rise, as I assert that my path, my story, and my purpose will not be ignored. This is a journey of resilience, of owning who I am, of standing in my truth while the world watches, doubts, and whispers. From the smallest gestures-the rose, the pen, the ink-stained fingertips-to the largest battles unseen, this poem captures the raw, unfiltered essence of knowing that I am here for a reason, and nothing can take that away.

When Leah accidentally sends a brutally honest email to her estranged brother instead of her therapist, she expects silence-or backlash. What follows instead is a thread of unexpected honesty that reopens the door to a long-abandoned bond. The Wrong Recipient explores what happens when truth slips out, and how even the most fractured connections can begin to mend.

Prologue "Some People Ghost You. Some People Haunt You." There was no eye contact across a crowded metro. No slow-motion scene in a bookstore. No spark over spilt coffee and shared glances. It started how most accidental Gen Z connections do - through a f***ed-up meme page at 2:13 AM. @shayaribeforebed. The post said: "Unsent messages hit harder than breakups." Rahul didn't overthink it. Just replied: "mood." A ping. "fr 🫠" from someone called @sidhixnotyours. He clicked. No blue tick. No aesthetic feed. Just blurry zines, a few story highlights titled 'rage', 'safe', and 'not anymore'. They weren't supposed to talk. But they did. And kept doing it. One night turned into playlists, 3AM voice notes, digital soul-baring, trauma-dumps disguised as 'just venting,' screenshots shared instead of feelings confessed. She said, "Don't catch feelings." He said, "Cool. I don't do that." That was the first lie. They never had a label. Just situationships, unsaid boundaries, close stories, and missed calls that felt too loaded to return. She was never his. But somehow... she's the only one he never moved on from. And now, after a year of read receipts turned ghost towns, Rahul's back. Not for closure. But for truth. Raw, late, selfish maybe - but still honest. This is my story. Or maybe... ours.

For every soul that has loved, lost, and still believes in healing. ❤️

A heartfelt poem about struggle, self-discovery, and the journey to rise above the past. It explores holding on, finding inner strength, and claiming a life that's truly your own

She couldn't cry out, so she wrote. When the weight of the world silences her voice, the pen speaks. When the heart can't carry more, the pages do. When I Can't, the Pen Bleeds is a soul-baring collection of poems born from sorrow, betrayal, and the quiet ache of being unheard. In these verses, the author pours out the truths she never said aloud-the heartbreaks that shattered her, the lessons etched into her skin by a world that turned cold, and the strength she found in her own reflection. This is a journey through trauma, survival, and self-reclamation. With every bleeding word, she stitches herself back together. Perfect for anyone who's ever felt too much, lost too deeply, or needed a place to let their own pain breathe. Not all bleeding is visible. Some drips from the heart onto paper. #WhenICantThePenBleeds

"Let Me Fly" is a heart-wrenching, lyrical poem about love lost, heartbreak, and the struggle to break free. It explores the push and pull of a relationship filled with pain, longing, and regret, ultimately expressing the courage to release the past and reclaim one's freedom.

A haunting reflection on solitude and self-exploration. This piece takes you into the corridors of the mind, where affliction, memory, and self-realization intertwine. At the heart of desolation lies a strange kind of clarity. Will you dare to step in?