Prosepoetry Stories

"Some people are like the moon-far away in distance, yet never distant in feelings." 🌙 Still Breathing is a collection of prose about unspoken love, fading memories, midnight thoughts, and the quiet ache of longing. These pages are for the hearts that loved in silence, waited endlessly, lost pieces of themselves, and still chose to keep breathing. For the hearts that broke softly... yet kept breathing. 🌙

a collection of tortured thoughts.

Filled with sad, heart felt poetry, and weeks worth of work. Hope u enjoy it :)

The most beautiful art is the one we never share. These are the thoughts I chose to let out.

A prose poem.

there is no single ever after. there are as many as there are ways for a story to continue. ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ once, the world was full of enchantments. dragons slept beneath mountains. fairies hid wishes in flower petals. witches kept moonlight in little glass bottles. princes rode beyond their kingdoms looking for something they could not name. and somewhere, always, someone was waiting for someone else. perhaps that is what all the old magic was trying to teach us. that the greatest enchantment is not finding the person written into your destiny. it is finding them, and writing the rest of the story together.

"But what if average is all I will ever be?"💔

He walked away, leaving behind nothing but memories and unanswered questions. And all she could whisper was, "Please... don't go."

Mynthaeren Brianna Marie Schuyler is tired. Tired of grieving. Tired of pretending she's okay. Tired of hearing her dad's voice in every quiet moment. Returning to the Glow Festival was meant to be a healing ritual. But the night has other plans. A ceremonial ice lantern. An opinionated sprite. And a haunting that cracks her wide open. As Brianna follows strings of emotion through the winter pines, she's forced to confront a truth she's been avoiding. Grief doesn't fade. It lingers. It loops. It demands to be faced.

"Words that breathe beneath the water." -Leong Nothing extraordinary, just poetries and random thoughts of a flawed lady.

Jhon lives alone. Or at least, that is what he tells himself. He lives inside a tired, yellowed flat where the clock is forever trapped at midnight, seven dead flowers wait in a cracked glass, and cigarette smoke hangs in the rooms like something that refuses to leave. Every morning, Jhon gathers enough courage to imagine another life. A life outside. A life with people. Friends. Laughter. Perhaps even love. Every night, however, the same old ghosts return. Fear. Shame. Desire. Regret. Sadness. They know his name. They know his memories. And, more disturbingly, they seem to know what Jhon refuses to remember. There is a door in the flat. There are seven steps beyond it. There is a woman who appears whenever Jhon begins to believe he might finally escape. There is a pub called The Black Lantern. There are letters he does not remember writing. There are rooms that should not exist. And there is always tomorrow. Tomorrow, Jhon will leave. Tomorrow, Jhon will find someone. Tomorrow, Jhon will finally begin to live. But tomorrow has a peculiar habit of never arriving. Below the Surface is a dark collection of seven narrative fables about loneliness, shame, memory, longing and the strange architecture of the human mind. But beneath the poetry lies another story. A quieter one. A story hidden inside the numbers. Inside the doors. Inside the clock. Inside the things Jhon remembers incorrectly. Every chapter brings him closer to something he has spent years refusing to face. Perhaps the ghosts are haunting Jhon. Perhaps Jhon is haunting the ghosts. Perhaps the door has never been locked. Perhaps it was never a door at all. Seven chapters. Seven steps. Seven memories. And beneath everything Jhon believes he knows... something is waiting. Welcome below the surface.

how lucky would i be to be destroyed by you.

For Three Whiles is an accidentally written Prose Poem, full of raw, unfiltered emotions that simply poured out of me and onto the pages on a random Sunday night . This short piece is intense, extremely raw and almost too honest.

Ongoing poetic ramblings from the recesses of my mind.

A collection of poems romanticizing the trivial and finding beauty in the simplicity of life.

"If the world were just, surely it would hurt more than this."

oh dear lord, send me a love so pure that can make the cupid bow in shame and make the aphrodite envious of me. started: 14 august 2021 ended: 17 august 2021

───────🐝✵ ·🏵· ✵🐝─────── 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞. ───────🐝✵ ·🏵· ✵🐝─────── 𝐕𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐕𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐨 🏵2025🏵

What do you do with a truth that has no voice? Smeraldo explores the fragile boundary between memory and numbness. In this collection of prose poetry, the questions don't demand answers, and the pain doesn't move. There are no grand resolutions here-only the quiet, heavy reality of the things we bury in order to survive. A deeply personal, confessional journey through the thoughts whispered only in the dark, capturing the heavy weight of a silence that refuses to lift.

Synopsis: Limerence is not just a love story. It's a series of misfortunate events that lead us to becoming. It's a story about recognition. About what happens when the universe orchestrates something too precise to be coincidence, when two people meet not by accident but by design. It's about a reckoning and the rupture that follows. It's about reverence. Set against the backdrop of soft nights and silent mornings, of city lights and heartbeats in dark rooms, Limerence follows a bond that blurs the line between fate and fantasy. Their love exists in fragments, in glances, in silence, in the ache of what can't be said. It's intimate, disarming, and deeply human. But love, like seasons, shifts. And sometimes the most profound connections are the ones that leave us. They haunt us. They shape us. They teach us how to hold on and how to let go. It's also a reflection on the quiet betrayals that unfold in the name of friendship. On the violence that lingers in the rooms where someone should have already left. Sometimes the people we tether ourselves to begin to rot the very places meant to hold love. And by the time we realize it, we've already bruised the hands reaching out to save us. This is a story for anyone who's ever touched something sacred, fleeting, and real. Even if only for a moment. A song for every soft ache, illusion, and unraveling. Limerence: Reverence and Ruins - the soundtrack. Listen as you read: https://music.apple.com/us/playlist/limerence-the-soundtrack/pl.u-38oWXB4uPpDdPJ4 Disclaimer: Although this story may resemble real people and events, certain details have been dramatized or altered in language to create a version of reality as poetic and beautiful as it once felt. Some locations have been changed, and names have been intentionally left out. This story was never meant for the world to fully understand. Only for two people. And only they will ever know the truth that lingers quietly in Paris.