Metaphor Stories

"You don't build a future in a town you're passing through, Harry," she replied, her voice barely steady. "I'm not passing through." "You always are." Harry Styles was a man defined by the exit sign. Between the sold-out stadiums, the hazy recording studios, and a life lived through a tour bus window and private jet, he was a ghost in motion. He was the man who left; she was the one who stayed behind, rooted in the hills of Arezzo like the perennials in her garden, blooming in a cycle he never stayed long enough to see. . Exhausted by the glare of fame, Harry retreats to a quiet town on the outskirts of Arezzo, seeking refuge from the expectations that have defined his life. In a modest house with a serene, vibrant garden, he rediscovers stillness and simplicity, finding comfort in small routines and the quiet rhythm of daily life. But even in this hidden corner of Tuscany, human connection finds a way in, stirring curiosity, trust, and the gentle possibility of something more.

A boy with nothing but strength in his hands, calmness and direction guiding where he stands. He moves through the world of heroes, unshaken and free, an unstoppable kinetic push for all to see. He is Isamu Kita-unbreakable, plain, and tall. Nothing else but bare force. That is all.

The stars in my hands: is a poetic prose work capturing each star in 3 short poems. Alexander Lorien

Eliane wakes up in a labyrinth of scarlet red and purplish blue tunnels . The eerie walls pulsate as if millions of maggots wriggle around in the distorted skin of the wall. Where was she? That doesn't matter to her as much as the thing looming over her in the near distance. It drove her and Tom apart earlier. Eliane longs to see Tom, her current lover, however it seems that something inside her heart regarding their relationship is dying.

TW: THEMES OF BODY IMAGE AND MENTAL HEALTH (DEPRESSION, ANXIETY, ETC.) emotions are like waves // but i'm fine // really. this poetry collection dives into the world of the inner soul, exploring places that were hidden away from reality. these poems explore the struggle of staying afloat when you don't know how to swim the waters. for anyone who ever felt too sensitive; reality is colder than you think.

"i left the lights on" is a collection of poems stitched together with memory, love, loss, and hope. Through quiet confessions and lingering metaphors, these pages explore the people we carry, the moments that shape us, and the lights we leave on for the parts of ourselves that are still searching for home.

INTIMATE, DARK AND DEEP.

Little metaphoric quotes and notes I'd written. notes to the one I love the most. Give credits in case you use anything from this series^^

Why summon the bee, then flinch at its hum?

A father and child meet across the cold glass of obligation. Every need is met. Every duty is paid. The books always balance - and that is precisely the problem. A free-verse poem about a relationship reduced to pure transaction.

"Hearts plucked when the words struck." ~it happens often isn't? Whenever our words fell short, our hearts already know the synced rhythm. They knew what have touched them and in what context. All rights reserved Mau archives(2026) by Mau writes. Do not copy my writings otherwise I would have to take a strict action against you. Thank you Let's dive deep into the book to understand unsaid emotions. With Love, Mau<3

{🏆🥈Versification 2026 Grand Daily Prompt Runner Up} Some stories don't end - they linger, like April rain on quiet days. 𝑨𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒂 is a collection of moments that exist in the in-between - where beginnings feel uncertain, endings arrive softly, and emotions refuse to fade completely. Each poem captures fragments of connection, loss, growth, and quiet realization, unfolding like petals that never fully close. This is not a book of perfect endings. It is a book of almosts, echoes, and afterglow - of feelings that stay long after they should have left. Step gently into 𝑨𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒂, where every page holds a piece of something once felt, and never entirely forgotten. This collection contains poems written for Versification by Wattpad Poetry Ambassadors profile @Poetry. ✎﹏﹏﹏﹏ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: If you are reading this story on any other platform other than Wattpad you are very likely to be at risk of a malware attack. If you wish to read this story in its original, safe, form, please go to @moonlightxmysteries on Wattpad. Thank you. ✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

Liminal is a collection of small stories meant to make you wonder. They're mainly made up of unusual or lesser-known words, each carrying its own meaning and atmosphere. Liminal contains these short stories: Agoraphobia Your Shallow Eyes Pelagic Lies Petrichor Ineffable Astral Convergence The Door Without a Reflection Redamancy Sonder Disclaimer: I do not have agoraphobia. Agoraphobia is my personal interpretation of the term and its definition, written as a piece of fiction. (The header image is not my artwork.)

A gallery of found thoughts. These prose pieces are the artifacts of a mind that thinks in images, collected at the exact moment they surfaced. It is a study of the 'sudden'-where metaphor acts as the bridge between a passing whim and a permanent truth.

A hole has opened in the deepest part of the ocean. He dives deep into the darkness, hoping to reach the endless black, never looking back to the light.

" Dancing of Old Twin Souls "

𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘥. 𝘐 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘐 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘶𝘴. * Some things are too heavy for a body this young. Some truths too sharp for a tongue still learning to speak. This is for those who have ever clenched their jaw instead of crying. This is for the ones who bled but were never believed. This is for you - if you've ever carried something too heavy for your age. Read with caution, rage, reverence, and maybe... relief. Not all battles are fought with swords. Some are written - word by word, breath by breath. I hear you. I'm proud of you. I'm here for you.

open your eyes / you are more than just / a hitchhiker in this life. / you are in fact / an artist. / just pick up a pen / and you will see. /

A poem expressing the pain of loving someone who will never reciprocate those feelings, comparing them to a distant, unattainable moon.

Poemas de varios temas que escribo para practicar mi español. Si hay algo mal escrito, avísame