Prose Stories

A collection of modern poetry exploring the beautiful, messy reality of growing up, healing, and finding yourself. Dive into Between Waves, an anthology of raw and honest poems that capture the highs and lows of the human experience. From the quiet anxieties of high school hallways and digital fatigue to the comforting warmth of deep friendship, love, and self-acceptance, this collection is a safe haven for anyone navigating the complexities of life. Whether you are looking for comforting words on a heavy day, a bittersweet reflection on addiction and mental health, or just a touch of "entirely silly" whimsical relief, you'll find a piece of your own story hidden within these pages. ✨ What's Inside: On Hope & Strength: Finding light in the darkest corners. Sad & Deep Stuff: Honest reflections on anxiety, modern isolation, and screen detoxing. On Love & Friendship: Celebrating the connections that save us. On Embracing Yourself: A gentle reminder that you are enough. Updated regularly. Hit the 'Vote' button if a poem speaks to your heart!

I'm running out of explanations here. I'm winging it. I'm always winging it. The title just felt right and damn, here we are. It's poetry so if it's not your thing, you might like it. Occasionally, it may be a little prose, depending on the feeling but we'll try to keep it consistent. Does anyone ever even read these things? Ok it's about a boy, a lonely boy. Sometimes he feels like he's a thousand leagues under the sea. Other times, it's like he's been severed from reality. Whatever that means. This boy, just wants the world to understand him. But it has no obligation to. So he's stuck on the outskirts of everything and everything else hoping for some sense of clarity. It never comes. It never will. This is a documentation, of his never ending pursuit. That was decent, right? I do love letters, letter letters, confessions, police statements on the side, in case you need them. Basically, I'll handle the ever living heaven out of your writing needs. The sick part, is that it's free so feel free.. to blast the message board and I'll take the time I usually use to do something constructive and meaningful to tend to your requests. Read well, friends.

This is a collection of raw, fleeting, and heartfelt moments - tiny windows into countless emotions. Each piece stands alone, yet together they weave a tapestry of thoughts, memories, and what-ifs. Some are gentle, some sting, and some stay with you longer than you expect. There are no perfect plots here - only fragments of feeling, shaped into words for those who love to imagine between the lines.

A collection of Prose Poetry and Photography

some feelings are easier to type than say out loud. typed, erased, repeated. is a collection of poems, late-night thoughts, unfinished feelings, love that stayed too long, memories that still ache, and the kind of emotions people pretend they've moved on from. these pages were written in moments of overthinking, healing, missing, loving, breaking, and becoming. maybe you'll relate to some of them. maybe you'll wish you didn't.

Excerpts and poetry from my journals.

Dans ces pages se mêlent les aurores de l'amour, les ombres de l'absence et les murmures de l'âme. Un voyage poétique au fil des émotions humaines les plus profondes.

They say time heals all wounds, but they never tell you what to do with the ache left behind."The Soul You Forgot to Take is a deeply moving collection of poetry and prose capturing the raw anatomy of heartbreak. It navigates the quiet spaces between love and loss, tracing the journey of a soul left behind to piece itself back together.

──────── ₊⋆☽◯☾⋆₊ ──────── 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬 is a poetic memoir of becoming, an unfolding of myself, one fragile petal at a time. This collection traces my journey through the fragile and tangled years of teenagehood. Through each poem, you would get a glimpse of raw and unfiltered moments of love, heartbreak, loss, confusion and even hints of clarity. The title is more than just a name : it is a metaphor of growth and acceptance . Each year, each experience was a petal unfolding . Some were soft like teenage innocence while others were jagged, stained with blood, weathered by heartbreak and resilient in reaching. Some were glowing red under the eternal sunlight of euphoria while others were withered due to the droughts of insecurity and floods of pent up emotions . But together these roses compose the bouquet of my becoming. Now I offer this bouquet to you, dear reader, and hope you find petals of your own and embrace the garden you are meant to be. ──────── ₊⋆☽◯☾⋆₊ ──────── 𝟒 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑 ⟪ h i g h e s t r a n k i n g s ⟫ #1 in poesia (out of 15k stories) #1 in spokenword (out of 4.57k stories) #1 in personalthoughts (out of 2.5k stories) #1 in personalexperience (out of 1.57k stories) #1 in freeverse (out of 7.74k stories)

Some are born original. Some are forced to become. Esha was a woman who saw through the world as a guest, possessing it was never a question-hope of belonging, giving more than taking-remaining invisible fit like a glove instead. A man like Antares, waltzed into her life, promising the universe in exchange for her trust. The world she stood on tilted, the heart murmured fears, the body recoiled in memory of hands unbidden, the mind curled into itself hoping to have dreamt it away, while the soul recognized a kindred spirit. Yet when two wounded strangers recognize themselves in each other, the personas they built to survive begin to fracture. How to trust a woman whose scars marred the body like ink? How to trust a man whose skin bleeds from his very sins? What to make of kithship so visceral-it possesses the body in stupor? Who were they when no one was watching? A story of identity. Complexity. And the selves we keep becoming. Reader discretion is advised. Updates every Wednesday, 12:00 AM EDT.

See now the guy; or, a monument to nations that forgot how to bleed. Year Unspecified, America. Power fails across the Eastern Interconnection and two centuries come undone. Daniel Rook believes the disruption temporary: another crisis destined to be forgotten beneath the weight of the next. Then his house is destroyed and the world he knew vanishes with it. Through burning towns, empty interstates, refugee camps, and fields blackened by war, he follows a monstrous figure who speaks of revolution as necessity, violence as destiny, and history as an endless procession of blood. To some, Knight is merely a soldier. To others, a philosopher. To Daniel, he is the herald of something far older than politics. Traversing a nation in collapse, from the shattered suburbs of the East to the corridors of power themselves, Mercy Unmaking is a darkly satirical and deeply philosophical novel of war and memory, human cruelty and resilience, and a question of whether the American Dream is a triumph over our nature- or merely its briefest disguise.

Poems for you and I

a diary left hidden and burried. - a collection of my poems, prose, journal entree, and my rants in life. about me: i love scrapbooking, journaling, collecting books, listening to music, watching bunch of BL series and movies, a part for LGBTQ+ community, a college student, i love stickers, i seek peace most of the time. i runaway from everyone like a mad man.

shards of the broken moon. [ oneshots & more. + various ships included ] [#6 in PROSE out of 10.4K stories] © tothemooonnn '2026

to all of the thoughts I have at 2am

a book of poetic ramblings, where words have the power to make us feel both lost and found all at once. an exploration of what it means to be alive and feel things and why we're here.

A collection of poems and short stories written between heartbreak and obsession, hunger and devotion, fear and longing. These are the words I never said out loud - the ones that kept me awake, the ones that buried me seven feet beneath myself.

reasons why i've become this person :)

I am the dead poet who has risen from the grave and is writing poems.