Истории Metaphorically

"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.

Welcome to Poetry Roughbook. Not every poem begins as a masterpiece, and this one was never meant to be. Poetry Roughbook isn't a collection of perfect poems. Instead, it's a notebook of crossed-out lines, midnight thoughts, coffee stains, and messy drafts where ideas bloom, metaphors wander, and words slowly learn how to breathe. Every poem in these pages is based on prompts shared by Wattpad's Poetry Ambassadors. Each prompt is an invitation to experiment, challenge my creativity, and discover new ways to tell a story through verse. Some poems are polished. Others remain beautifully unfinished. Together, they capture a journey of learning, growing, and finding beauty in imperfection - one prompt, one page, and one poem at a time. This is a place for first attempts, quiet victories, imperfect metaphors, and poems that simply wanted to exist. So, if you don't mind a little mess, a little magic, and a lot of ink... Turn the page. I hope these pages feel a little like home. All poems are original unless stated otherwise. Prompt credits belong to their respective creators. ✎﹏﹏﹏﹏ 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. ✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

"𝗧𝗼 𝗕𝗹𝗲𝗲𝗱 𝗔𝗺𝗶𝗱𝘀𝘁 𝗦𝗽𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴'𝘀 𝗗𝗲𝘄" follows a girl the town only ever learned as a bloom; bright, sweet, and never once asked what grew beneath her. Spring gave her a smile the world mistook for proof of wellness, and no one thought to kneel down and check the root. The opening act of "𝗟𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝗧𝗮𝗹𝗲𝘀 𝗙𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗟𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝘀𝗲 - 𝗩𝗼𝗹. 𝟭: 𝗔𝗻 𝗘𝗹𝗲𝗴𝘆 𝗜𝗻 𝗙𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗦𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗼𝗻𝘀", this piece is a quiet reminder that a smile is not a diagnosis of wellness, nor a frown one of illness. Written in support of "𝗕𝗲𝘆𝗼𝗻𝗱 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗟𝗮𝗯𝗲𝗹", this poem asks its readers to avoid mistaking appearance for evidence, and to look past the bloom before it learns to hide too well. "𝗦𝗲𝗲 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗣𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗼𝗻, 𝗡𝗼𝘁 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗗𝗶𝘀𝗼𝗿𝗱𝗲𝗿." - 𝓣. 𝓜. 𝓒𝓸𝓻𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓽

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.

This is pretty much just my suicidal/depressed thoughts of when I randomly compare myself to objects at 2am -there may be some exceptions though- I don't really expect anyone to read this so yah :D /\_/\ =| •w•|=

මුළු ලෝකයාම ඔබව නිර්දෝෂී යැයි පවසද්දී, ඔබේම හෘද සාක්ෂිය ඔබව මරා දමන්නට හදනවා නම්... ඔබ සැඟවෙන්නේ කොහේද?" ජූලියන් යනු සැමටම ආදර්ශමත්, සාර්ථකත්වයේ මුදුනේම සිටින මිනිසෙකි. බාහිර සමාජයට ඔහුගේ ජීවිතය ආලෝකමත් පළිඟු මන්දිරයක් සේ පෙනුණද, එහි මුළු අත්තිවාරමම ගොඩනැඟී තිබුණේ අතීතයේ ඔහු පැවසූ, කිසිවෙකුට නොපෙනෙන එකම එක බිහිසුණු බොරුවක් මතය. තමා විසින්ම සාදාගත් අඳුරු මානසික කුළුණක නිහඬ සිරකරුවෙකු වන ජූලියන්, වරදකාරිත්වයේ සහ පසුතැවීමේ කටු කම්බිවලින් දිනෙන් දින බැටකයි. ඔහුට අන් අයගේ සමාව අවශ්‍ය නැත; මන්ද, පිටස්තරයෙකු දෙන සමාවකට තමා තුළ ඇවිළෙන මේ අභ්‍යන්තර ලැව්ගින්න නිවා දැමිය නොහැකි බව ඔහු දනී. බොරුව තවමත් අතීතයේ ලියැවී තිබේ; එය කිසිදාක මැකිය නොහැක. නමුත් එහි බියකරු සෙවනැල්ලෙන් මිදී ආත්මයේ නිදහස සොයා යා හැකිද?

Made to meet, not to everlast. Until the dying days, we'll place this special encounter in our hearts. Interlocked, forever. 𝓜𝔂𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓲

This is a Fantasy Action/Adventure story with more to it than meets the eye

You have to see what's overgrowing your personality. Published on August 30, 2026.

Where the flower blooms, the butterfly follows. She blooms quietly, like a flower waiting for sunlight. He drifts through life like a butterfly-drawn to beauty, terrified to land. When their paths cross, something shifts: her kindness becomes pollen he can't help but carry, and his silence becomes the wind that stirs her petals. But even the softest connection can change everything.

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.

You only hinder yourself by concealing those feelings under a concrete mask. But remember, concrete cracks and I see your unmarred skin that's not tasted the flavour of living. You hide like a guilty thief. You steal away the experience so open your eyes, your mind, your heart to the landscape known as Emotion. *** (30/6/22) Maturity is when you look back at your creation with, not disgust, but pride. You marvel at your growth, rather than shame yourself for the lack of knowledge in the past. Amongst the embarrassment, commend your budding talent, and strive to make better for yourself. 2020 anthology. 2nd place in The Bridge Society Poetry Awards. Beautiful cover by @Lane2London.

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 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.

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.

A collection of many different poems I wrote.

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. /

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

"Light can be addicting but some of the most beautiful things can only be seen in the dark."

Why summon the bee, then flinch at its hum?