Melancholy Stories

Not every past is meant to be forgotten. Some are meant to be protected. Chi cheng and Wu suowei were together, happy, and almost sure that nothing could come between them now. But when past of chi cheng stands Infront of him, his past lover, the one he had erased from his life, it violently shakes their life. While Wang Shuo serves as the catalyst in Burning Fire, another figure-a business rival from Chi Cheng's past-further fans the flames. Will they be able to navigate through their own broken past and this new confusing reality......Can love survive becoming a tragedy? ⚠️ Reader Discretion Advised This story contains: emotional distress and separation Memory loss (amnesia) Emotional grief, heartbreak yearning and longing angst Mentions of accidents Manipulation, Lies and revenge Morally gray characters Please read with care. Writer's note - the story is inspired from the original, a slow burn, but have its own turns, own moments and own consequences. i will try to justify the love, the friendships and the truth and the lies in the story. However, i will be posting slowly. I appreciate the patience, your positive, or negative but honest feedback....will keep me inspired to go on.!! Stay safe. Take care. Laters.

The first thing she noticed was the silence. Not the kind that comes at night, but a heavy, watery silence that pressed against her ears. When she finds her own body at the end of the hallway, she realizes she is still there, but her family isn't looking. As she drifts through the rooms of her house, she discovers the cracks in her family's love and a chilling truth: she didn't die when she died. She was already gone.

Won an award. Poems get better with time lapsed since my abstinence. Your mind is a burning room, a drowning storm, and a torturing fairy-tale all at once. Now, descend through its layers and discover what waits in the one place even the flames can't reach. Sad Sundays is my weekly space to share melancholic poetry, words that help me navigate the stillness, the weight, and the quiet storms of recovery. Each Sunday, I post a new piece that I've written, using poetry to process my journey through detox and rehab, to face the difficult parts of healing, and to find meaning in the silence. Every poem is written by hand with help from the Rhymezone platform. This series is as much for me as it is for anyone who finds comfort in knowing they're not alone on their gray days. I will eventually try to tie most of my work together into a larger piece, but first and foremost, this will function as a collection of my writings while I am going through detox. There may be an underlying story, but perhaps not. Find out weekly, and join me for a Sad Sunday moment. New Upload every Sunday at 18:00 (6 PM) German time - CET/CEST (UTC+1/UTC+2).

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.

♡︎ 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘪 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭.

Some wounds never show on the skin. Grace carries hers quietly. The past has left pieces of her life scattered behind her memories she cannot escape, losses she cannot undo, and nights when simply getting through the next morning feels like too much to ask. She has learned to keep her distance, to swallow the words that tremble at the back of her throat, and to let the world mistake her silence for strength. Then she meets someone who refuses to look away. Iris is nothing like her, where she retreats, he reaches closer; where she leaves questions unanswered, he waits. Their conversations begin with hesitation, linger longer than they should, and leave behind a tension neither of them knows what to do with. Somewhere between the silences, the arguments, and the moments neither of them has the courage to name, Grace begins to wonder if a heart bruised by life can still make room for something gentle. Because what grows between them isn't simply love. It is the quiet warmth of being seen. The slow mending of something once thought beyond repair. A connection that teaches a suffering heart how to breathe again.

A Poetry Collection 🖤 This is my first time publishing something, and I'm excited to finally share a little piece of my thoughts with you. I'd genuinely love to hear your opinions, feedback, and comments, as they will help me learn, improve, and grow as a writer. That being said, I kindly ask that all feedback remain constructive and respectful. Criticism is always welcome and appreciated, but disrespect, personal attacks, slurs, or hateful comments toward my work-or toward anyone else in the comment section-will not be tolerated. Your support, encouragement, and honest feedback mean more than you know and will help me continue growing on this journey. I hope you enjoy this little window into my thoughts, and perhaps find something within it that resonates with you. Thank you so much for taking the time to read. 🤍 **Copyright © 2026. All rights reserved.**

A collection of deep thoughts.

Evan is just a nerdy high school boy trying to survive school, his father's expectations, and the feeling that something about him is fundamentally different. By day, he's the quiet boy everyone thinks they understand. By night, hidden behind a blonde wig and a new identity, Evan finally gets to be the person he's always been afraid to show. Sometimes, becoming yourself means risking everything you've been trying to hide. !!!Update every Saturday!!!

es como un tipo diario donde simplemente me desahogo y trato de encontrar respuestas o simplemente... trato de saber que realmente me aprisiona... no tengo a nadie que platicarlos así que simplemente me refugiare en la escritura como un método de alivio para mi misma...

Written in the silence of the heart, at the bottom of a quiet era, 30 Letters of Solitude is a collection of whispered thoughts, hidden wounds and feelings too deep for ordinary words. For the lonely soul, the restless mind and the heavy heart-these letters are a gentle place to rest. Sometimes, solitude is not emptiness. Sometimes, it's where the heart finally learns to speak

À Ohara, paisible village niché près de Kyoto, Hanae travaille dans la pâtisserie familiale tout en rêvant secrètement de partir étudier l'architecture dans une grande ville. Mais la peur de décevoir les siens la paralyse. Tout bascule lorsqu'elle fait la rencontre de Sōta. Venu de la capitale pour s'offrir une vie paisible, le jeune homme apprécie le calme de ce village qu'Hanae cherche désespérément à quitter...

Every human soul is cradled in the stars, yet we wander through life like an empty forest, quietly begging for someone to enchant it with flowers. When love arrives, it becomes everything, our morning ray, our evening breeze, and the very flow of the river. We surrender completely, whispering, "By losing myself, I became yours." But when that devotion fades, we are left standing in the midst of so much noise, wondering if we are lonely at home, or lonely in life. The Fragrance We Carry is a raw journey of eight interconnected poems mapping the rise and fall of absolute devotion. It is the story of a gaze that drifted toward a 'bazaar of vivid perfumes' or 'heart filled with various people', only to realize that no one can respect your emotions like you do. Turn the page to discover the quiet, unbreakable essence we all carry when we finally choose to walk away.

𝓙𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓶𝔂 𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓽𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓶𝔂 𝓹𝓸𝓮𝓶𝓼.

My name is "Ryuuko Matoi" and I'm on a mission

​"The night has said all it needs to say, but the ink isn't dry-it's just moving to a new page." ​From the creator of The Whispers of Night comes a companion volume born from the same soul, written by the same pen, and carrying the same beautifully enduring scars. ​The dark may be thinning, but the poet remains unchanged. ​The Whispers of Dawn does not promise a world free of shadows, nor does it offer shallow, fleeting warmth. Instead, it is an unfiltered look at the horizon through the eyes of a survivor. It is the quiet stillness that follows a lifetime of storms, where the fragments of heavy memories, deep-seated grief, and an unyielding devotion to the Divine Mother are held up to the first rays of morning light. ​Moving away from the suffocating cold of the winter cage, this collection steps onto a road of profound definition and universal acceptance. From the silent prayers offered at stone shrines to the fierce, complex sacrifices of love and survival, Evander Nightborne explores what it means to carry a fractured heart into an awakening world. ​The ghosts have been housed. The dawn is breaking. And through the gray mists of morning, the soul finally learns to breathe again.

Where a city's moon never sets, secrets still remain. Minho wants to know the secret before his limited time ends, Jisung is willing to find out the secret for him, even if he might not be there anymore. "Promise me that when I die, you'll care for yourself. My last wish is for you to uncover the mysteries of the moon for me. I'll be watching you among the stars." "I promise,"

SAD GIRL HOURS | MAY GARNER | MISCELLANEOUS ˙⋆✮ ˙⋆✮ ˙⋆✮ Sad Girl Hours is home to everything that makes me human. Thoughts, emotions, experiences, questionaries, rants, and life updates all coming from a sad girl feeling her feels unapologetically. This book will contain questionnaire tags, personal rants, life stories + updates, graphics, writing talk, and so much more! ˙⋆✮ ˙⋆✮ ˙⋆✮ Online Diary, Questionaries, and Miscellaneous book. Previously known as 'Migraine'. Lovely cover by @gazstation ♡ 𝑺𝒂𝒅 𝑮𝒊𝒓𝒍 𝑯𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔 © 2015 by May Garner. All Rights Reserved.

A shard is what remains after something breaks. Not a ruin - a fragment. Irregular, autonomous, complete in itself. Each poem in this collection is a shard: born from a passing image, a sound, a silence - caught before it vanished. No architecture. No continuity. Only the moment of fracture, held still. Silver the Hedgehog moves through each one. He does not explain them. He inhabits them.

sehnsucht [ˈzeːnˌzʊxt] 𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒏, 𝑮𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒂𝒏 a deep, bittersweet longing for something distant, unattainable, or unknown. a collection of things that linger too long when they shouldn't. they are dark, they are sweet, they are bad and good, pieces of the scattered thoughts that never get forgotten. {updates on every friday; well trying to :)}