The novel is about a contemporary married couple on bad bases. Including hatred. But the arrival of the third person will change the cost of their living not only into a nightmare but also make them discover love
People say, “When you are torn between two lovers, choose the second one. Because there won’t be a second person if you really loved the first one.”
But how would you know that you love the second one more than the first one? What if your mind was just clouded when you’re with the second one?
People say, “Trust is the most important ingredient in love.”
But would trust encompass distance? Would trust give you the insurance that one would not look away from you? Would trust give that certain assurance that one will always be yours?
A story of betrayal. Tears. And drama.
Her twin gets missing on her eighteenth birthday. The Fae court seems to be hiding something about her sister disappearance and her recluse father acts like he doesn't care. Left with no option, A powerless Fae journeys to find her sister. Discovering secrets and even secrets admirers on the way.
I discover that I'm a homewrecker after dating my boyfriend for a decade. We're looking at marital homes when his wife seeks me out.
She beats me up in public and rips my hair out, yet all he does is hurry to her after I've pushed her to the floor. Why? Because she's pregnant.
Later, he gets a divorce and begs me to marry him. "I'm begging you, Madison. Forgive me this once."
She was his wife on paper for three years, but his heart always belonged to his girlfriend.
They were in love for 15+ years..
Childhood sweethearts, then lovers.
Each other's firsts. Each other's forever.
Kiyara was the only love of his life.
But one cruel incident.
Forced him to marry someone else.
Shattering three heart into pieces.
****
This is there story.
The people who loved.
And paid the price for it.
𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑶𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑾𝑶𝑴𝑨𝑵
A story no one dares to tell.
Story of three people.
Kiyara
Raghav
Natasha
Mary can see beings from the other side where most people don't. Her ability causes her to have a hard time growing up. She always thought that it was a gift to see the paranormal entities around us. But it turns out to be a curse since she can't live a normal life.
Her only mistake is that she started talking to that spirit and even gave him a name. She called the ghost, Angel. The reason for that name is because he always keeps her safe. He always makes sure that there will be nobody who can hurt her. Until she saw his real face…
Then, she will meet another interesting man, Gregory, who happens to be a vampire. He will save her from the hands of the angel of death who is pretending to be her friend. Gregory has to save her from Angel because she will make a perfect wife for a lonely vampire.
Will Mary agree to the vampire's marriage proposal? Or will she choose to go back to the land of the living?
Listening to classic poetry is like sipping a fine wine—it has so many layers to enjoy! One of my all-time favorites has to be 'The Road Not Taken' by Robert Frost. The way he captures the essence of choices in life resonates deeply with me. The rhyme scheme is simple yet effective, and it makes the imagery of his journey feel real. Another gem is 'A Dream Within a Dream' by Edgar Allan Poe. His haunting rhythm pulls you in, and the philosophical questions about reality really make you ponder existence itself.
Then there’s the ever-charming ‘Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening’, also by Frost. That feeling of peaceful solitude in the woods really strikes a chord, especially in today’s fast-paced world. It’s hard not to feel reflective and inspired when you read it.
To think of classic rhymes, we can't skip over Emily Dickinson’s works. Although many are short, they're packed with depth and emotion, and her striking use of slant rhyme makes each piece uniquely beautiful.
Broken and Reset: Selected Poems' dives deep into the raw, unfiltered emotions of human existence. The collection grapples with themes of suffering and renewal, often juxtaposing the fragility of the human spirit with its incredible resilience. One poem might depict the shattering of identity after loss, while another slowly pieces together hope from the fragments. The imagery of broken glass, mended pottery, and regrowth after fire weaves through the work, creating a visceral sense of destruction and healing.
What struck me most was how the poet frames personal breakdowns as necessary transformations. There's this recurring motif of voluntary surrender—like breaking down walls to rebuild them stronger. Some sections read almost like alchemical texts, where emotional pain becomes the crucible for change. The later poems shift toward quieter realizations, suggesting that recovery isn't about returning to wholeness but finding beauty in the cracks.
The ending of 'Jabberwocky and Other Poems' feels like a deliberate descent into linguistic chaos that somehow circles back to meaning. Lewis Carroll's playful nonsense language in 'Jabberwocky' isn't just random—it mimics the structure of epic tales, where a hero slays a monster, but subverts expectations by making the words themselves the 'monsters.' The final stanza returns to the serene opening scene, mirroring how folklore often resets after adventure. It’s like Carroll’s winking at us: life’s absurdity doesn’t need to 'make sense' to feel triumphant or beautiful.
What fascinates me is how the other poems in the collection echo this theme. 'The Hunting of the Snark' ends with the Baker’s abrupt disappearance, leaving readers to grapple with unresolved absurdity. Carroll seems to argue that endings aren’t about closure but about the joy of the journey. The blend of whimsy and existential ambiguity makes me revisit these poems whenever I need a reminder that not everything requires a tidy explanation.
Henley's poetry, especially 'Invictus', has this raw, unshakable spirit that makes it timeless. I stumbled upon his collection years ago in a dusty used bookstore, and it felt like uncovering treasure. While I can't share direct links, I know his works are in the public domain since he passed in 1903. Places like Project Gutenberg or Google Books often host free PDFs of classics like his. A quick search there with keywords like 'Henley poems public domain' might yield results.
What’s fascinating is how his life—losing a leg to tuberculosis, enduring hospital stays—shaped his defiant tone. 'Invictus' isn’t just a poem; it’s a battle cry. If you’re after physical copies, thrift stores sometimes carry old anthologies too. There’s something magical about reading his words on yellowed pages, imagining how many hands they’ve passed through.
Edgar Allan Poe's obsession with death isn't just a theme—it's the heartbeat of his work. 'The Raven and Other Selected Poems' feels like walking through a graveyard at midnight, where every verse whispers about loss, decay, or the supernatural. Take 'Annabel Lee'—it's a love story, sure, but it's drenched in grief, the kind that clings to you long after reading. Poe's childhood was shadowed by death (his mother, foster mother, and wife all died young), so it makes sense his poetry would mirror that pain. Even 'The Raven' isn't really about the bird; it's about the narrator unraveling in the face of irreversible loss. The beauty of it? He turns despair into something almost musical, like a funeral dirge you can't stop humming.
Modern readers might find it morbid, but there's catharsis in how raw he gets. It’s like he’s saying, 'Yeah, life’s brutal—but look how hauntingly pretty that brutality can be.' I sometimes wonder if his focus on death was a way to control it, to give it shape before it took everything from him again.
Walter Dean Myers' 'Here in Harlem: Poems in Many Voices' is a stunning collection that blends history, emotion, and the rhythm of life in Harlem. The book contains 54 poems, each one giving voice to a different resident of Harlem, from a young student to an elderly jazz musician. What I love about this work is how Myers captures the essence of each character—every poem feels like a snapshot of their soul. The variety of perspectives makes it feel like walking through Harlem itself, hearing snippets of conversation and bursts of song.
Reading this collection, I was struck by how Myers uses different poetic forms to match each voice. Some are free verse, others have a bluesy cadence, and a few even mimic the call-and-response of gospel music. It’s not just about the number of poems (though 54 is impressive!); it’s about how they come together to paint a vivid, bustling portrait of a community. I’d recommend savoring it slowly, one poem at a time, to really absorb the richness.
Shakespeare's poetry is a treasure trove of timeless themes that still resonate today. Love, of course, is front and center—especially in the sonnets, where he explores everything from passionate devotion to the pain of unrequited feelings. But it's not just romance; he digs into the fleeting nature of beauty, the ravages of time, and even the darker sides of desire. Some sonnets feel like intimate confessions, while others wrestle with jealousy or the fear of losing someone. There's also a recurring thread about art's power to immortalize moments, like in Sonnet 18 ('Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?'), where poetry becomes a way to defy death itself.
Then there's the raw, human stuff—betrayal, self-doubt, and societal pressures. The 'Dark Lady' sonnets, for instance, twist idealized love into something more complicated and messy. And let's not forget the political undertones in some poems, where flattery or coded critiques might lurk beneath the surface. What's wild is how these 400-year-old verses still hit home—like when he writes about aging or the anxiety of legacy. It's all so deeply personal yet universal, which is why lines from 'Sonnet 29' ('When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes...') still echo in modern songs and speeches.
Poetry has always been this quiet storm, you know? 'Poems For Rebels' doesn’t just sit on a shelf—it shakes the table. The way it stitches raw emotion into words makes you feel like you’re holding a protest sign even if you’re just reading in bed. I love how it tackles everything from systemic injustice to personal defiance, like in the poem 'Bricks and Feathers,' where the imagery of crumbling walls versus flight hits so hard. It’s not preaching; it’s inviting you to question. And that’s the magic—when art doesn’t yell but makes you ache to yell yourself.
What’s wild is how it connects across generations. My teenage cousin quoted a line about 'burning silences' at a school rally, and suddenly, this book wasn’t just ink on paper. It became a chant, a meme, a banner. That’s social change—when words leap off the page and into people’s hands, their voices. The collection’s mix of rage and tenderness makes rebellion feel less like a distant fight and more like something you can cradle, then pass on.
Nothing beats the joy of discovering poetry, especially classics like 'The Complete Poems'! While I adore physical copies, I totally get the hunt for free online access. Project Gutenberg is my first stop for public domain works—they’ve digitized tons of older poetry collections, and their interface is super straightforward. If it’s not there, Open Library might have a borrowable digital copy. Sometimes, universities host free archives too, like the University of Pennsylvania’s online poetry databases. Just a heads-up: newer editions or translations might still be under copyright, so double-check the publication date before diving in.
If you’re into audiobooks, Librivox offers volunteer-read versions of public domain poems, which is a cozy way to experience them. For a more curated feel, websites like Poetry Foundation occasionally feature excerpts or links to full texts. I’ve also stumbled upon gems in Google Books’ preview sections—not always complete, but great for sampling. Remember, though, supporting publishers or authors when possible keeps the literary world alive! Either way, happy poem hunting—it’s a rabbit hole worth falling into.
Megan Fox's 'Pretty Boys Are Poisonous' is one of those collections that sticks with you—raw, visceral, and unapologetically honest. I stumbled across snippets on platforms like Instagram and Tumblr, where fans often share their favorite lines with moody aesthetics. If you’re looking for the full experience, your best bet is checking digital libraries like Libby or Scribd, which sometimes offer free trials. I remember reading a few pieces on literary blogs that analyzed her work, but nothing beats holding the physical book—the way the poems look on the page adds to their punch.
For a deeper dive, I’d recommend tracking down interviews with Fox about the collection. She’s talked about how writing became a way to exorcise pain, and that context makes the poems hit even harder. Some indie bookstores also host virtual readings, so keep an eye out for those events. Honestly, half the fun is discussing the lines that gut you with fellow readers—there’s always someone who highlights a phrase you missed.