Poetryprose storie

This is a story about a soul learning itself the hard way. About growing up with faith, culture, family, and expectations - yet quietly losing direction along the way. About loving from emptiness, chasing ambition without grounding, and mistaking movement for purpose. It is a solo journey of discovery. Of loss. Of inner conversations no one hears. Of resentment, longing, and unanswered questions. And then, slowly - of return. Through real moments, deep monologues, and reflective pauses, this work traces how a soul can lose its path without realizing it... and how remembrance, accountability, and faith gently lead it back. This is not a guide. It is not perfection. It is a mirror. If you have ever felt present in life but absent within yourself - this is for you.

I move with no purpose but to serve the queen. © mamasjeans, 2018

HIGHEST RANK: #16 PROSEPOETRY #9 POETRYPROSE You wasn't the first to break my heart © 2015, motelflowers All rights reserved. Please, do not steal my work. Completed. 2015 - 2017

God is a comedian playing to an audience too afraid to laugh 2019 ©huacai

(Poetry-Prose Style Writing-A time jump after Lucy leaves Lockwood & Co for good.) Lucy has spent months trying her best not to go back to Lockwood and Co. She couldn't; staying away was the only way to keep Lockwood alive. Instead, she goes back to the cafe every morning, the same cafe where she lost Lockwood for good, to start the next chapter of her life. With bitter black coffee instead of her sweet tea.But one morning, she sees the new guy from the corner of her eye, wearing a suit with a long coat and a smile that reminds her of the one person she's been trying to forget. Without realizing it, she goes there at the same time he does, as a way to remind herself of Lockwood. After Lucy leaves Lockwood & Co, Lockwood becomes more careless than ever, going on missions without the proper research or plan of action. He's been asking around for her,trying to make sure she's okay,but he can't find any trace of her. Until one morning when he stumbles upon the cafe, where it all went down, and sees her sitting at their booth.He goes there every morning to see how she's doing,and with time,builds the courage to go in and talk to her. But what happens when he sees she's started a new life and met someone new?

𝑯𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒊𝒅 𝒊 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂 𝒃𝒖𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒍𝒚. 𝑺𝒐 𝒊 𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒊𝒎. 𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒂𝒔 𝒊 𝒇𝒆𝒍𝒍.

you kissed me down my spine and made me feel divine.

I write for the ones who still check old messeges, who replay moments in their mind like they're trying to rewrite them. My stories aren't fairytales.They're the ache in your chest when you miss someone who moved on... the silence after a goodbye that was never really said. I don't write to be heard. I write to be felt. Welcome to heartbreak. Welcome to the healing. -A.Campbell

"Some stories are easy to tell. Some are impossible to put into words. This is one of them." When people ask what happened, I have no answer. I ignore the question, brush it off, pretend it never mattered. But the truth is, I gave everything. And now, I have nothing but memories-memories I refuse to let go of. This is not just about love and loss. It's about the illusion we create, the worlds we build and watch burn, and the chapters we can never bring ourselves to close. A raw, introspective piece on love, regret, and the quiet weight of remembering.

What happens when a girl drowning in her own thoughts meets someone who isn't afraid to dive in after her? Atticus writes to survive-poetry, fragments, questions she can't answer-until Maverick crashes into her world. Together, can they turn all that pain into something worth staying for?

hymn for the hungry, a gospel written in gasoline and teeth.

This is not a love story. This is a survival story. A healing story. A story for the ones who never said it out loud, but always felt it too deeply. If you're one of them - welcome home. She was never just "quiet." She was a wildfire trapped inside a diary- folded thoughts, stitched lips, and a voice too afraid to echo. Everyone admired her strength. No one saw the weight. This isn't a love story. It's the journey of a girl who bled her truth into poems, masked her pain behind metaphors, and slowly... gently... learned how to un-silence herself. If you've ever felt too much, cared too deeply, or hidden too long- this is your story too.

✨ Monday August 4, 2025: Free Today Only - GenerAncestors™ Is Yours to Keep Hey Wattpad fam 💛 I don't normally do this, but today feels sacred. My new book-GenerAncestors™: The Bridge Between Roots & Rising Futures-is FREE for today only on Kindle. 📚 👉 Grab your free copy ⸻ What's It About? This is a book for anyone who's ever: • Felt the weight of family expectations • Carried silence instead of stories • Wondered if healing could be a spiritual act • Tried to hold on to tradition without losing themselves It's part poetry, part truth-telling, part healing love letter to every soul breaking cycles and honoring their ancestors with intention. ⸻ Why I Wrote It Because I've lived the tension. Between old ways and new choices. Between loyalty and liberation. Between silence and voice. GenerAncestors™ isn't a how-to-it's a reminder: You are the dream of someone who came before you. And you don't have to carry everything to honor where you come from. ⸻ 📝 If it touches you, I'd love it if you left a short Amazon review. It truly helps this message reach others. 📖 Download for free today → https://a.co/d/2G8mCb0 📢 Share this post with a friend or fellow reader 💬 Drop a comment-tell me what line hit you hardest Thanks for being here. For reading. For healing. Let's keep rising together. 🌿 #GenerAncestors #FreeBook #WattpadWriters #FamilyHealing #AncestralStories #ReadToHeal

to the boy who wanted nonfiction but who I gave poetry to. these are poems I never gave to you. All rights reserved © 2017 immortalitatis- cover by my lovely friend @hurtcopain

Some loves aren't meant to last forever-but they linger, haunting every corner of memory. In 'BDA: A Trail of Hers,' a young man recounts his journey through three seasons of the heart: the life he lived before she entered, the storm of emotions during their time together, and the empty silence after her departure. Through grief, longing, and fragile hope, he learns that love leaves not only wounds, but also trails-marks that guide us back to who we are meant to be.

❝i've always desperately wished for her.❞ book two in the seasons of love series. ©jiminiums written: 180919 - 131219 published: 121019 completed: 271219 the playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/76GzDY6HmOww8mrOoIve4o?si=9lOhp5cFRAC-M1DwIFFS_A&pi=QPjwu_BYTjGxV

What do you do with the pieces of a forever that never existed? This isn't a story of happy endings or bright beginnings. It's a messy, raw collection of feelings, memories, and reflections. Written for those who have given up but still keep going, these pages hold fragments of love, loss, and the weight of the connections that change us forever. Poetic, chaotic, and painfully real, this book(ish?) isn't for everyone. But if you've ever felt lost in your own emotions, you might just find yourself here. Take a breath. Turn the page. And see what's waiting for you between the lines.

What if everything you believed about your life, your memories, and your purpose was a lie? Follow a character as he unravels the truth about his existence-he is not the one searching; he is being searched. Written into existence with the sole purpose of finding meaning, he stumbles through his day, trapped in the cycle of his own thoughts, unable to break free from the question that haunts him: "Why am I here?" As the lines between creator and creation blur, this story reflects on the fragile balance between seeking purpose and losing yourself in the search.

In the space between silence and speech, between hope and despair, there's a quiet resilience - one that endures even when the edges start to fray. Threadbare is a collection of raw, introspective reflections on the emotional and mental struggles that often go unspoken. These poetic pieces explore the nuances of guilt, loneliness, identity, hope, and healing - all through the lens of the delicate, often invisible strength we summon when we feel stretched thin, worn down, and exhausted. It's for the ones who are quietly holding on. For those whose hearts are threadbare, yet still beating. For those who wonder if anyone notices the quiet light they still hold inside.

An assortment of dictionary poems exploring the hard-to-define.