6 Word Poem Novels & Stories

She looked at him dumbfounded, but he was looking ahead at the road. Did he realize what he just said? She wanted to ask but didn’t really know how. Maybe he didn’t mean it. It was just a figure of speech. It didn’t take long for them to reach his apartment, but it felt like hours of excruciating silence to Kiara. She was not one to dwell on words and feelings, but then again, she was not used to those particular ones.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Dear K, I wrote all these words for you. Just these words, nothing less, nothing more. Just these words on these papers, Never said out loud, never to reach your ears. I wrote them down because I need you to understand something. Everyone else can read it and they won't know a single thing. Because I only meant these words for you. Just these words. Just here. Just you. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I storm out Why won't anyone believe me, I have a real life vampires blood Arrg! after everything I went through, still just insults I did my study on those creatures for years, and I can still remember some of my favourite poetry and poems I read as a kid A Last Word by Ernest Dowson Let us go hence: the night is now at hand; The day is overworn, the birds all flown; And we have reaped the crops the gods have sown; Despair and death; deep darkness o'er the land,

It tasted like the night we carved our names into wood and believed wood could outlast empires. It tasted like the valley I will never reach and the children whose names I still whisper to the stars. If anyone ever finds this diary, tell them the last safe word worked. It just took sixty years for the right creatures to hear it. Tell them two teenagers invented a silly word because they thought the universe had no imagination. Tell them the universe listened harder than we ever did. Tell them a boy kept a pomegranate in his fist until it bled through his fingers and still never said the word.

' And just like that, with the one word the poem completed itself, it became whole , it was finished, it's own living and breathing entity of words and letters and deep meaning. "Wow, that's kind of spooky, don't you think?" "I know. It fits perfectly. I've finished the poem. Because of that word. Thank you yellow sticky note. Oh wow I'm speechless." "Well, someone obviously put it in there." The voice said. "Yeah you are right. But who? And how? But no one even knows about my writings. No one knows I exist." I think about this. Something is wrong. How? Just how? However, this is not only my creation now, this is also something I share with someone else.