Broken Dreams Poetry Mga Nobela at Kwento

⸻ Silence. “I wished for someone who could choose differently than me.” ⸻ The stars dimmed. ⸻ “Someone who could challenge me.” ⸻ “Someone who could surprise me.” ⸻ “Someone truly free.” ⸻ 🌙 Why Reality Is Breaking Suddenly— Cracks appeared across the ocean of light. ⚡ ⸻ The Dreamer looked upward. ⸻ For the first time… He seemed worried. ⸻ “We’re running out of time.”

They are fragments of a life unlived, a future untold. So, I weep. Not because I see them fulfilled without me, but because I don’t even know what they represent. Are they the dreams I never knew I had, or the nightmares I’ve yet to face? Their happiness is both beautiful and heartbreaking, a mysterious paradox I’m unable to solve.

I was surprised that his handwriting didn’t upgrade as the centuries went on. One of his poems caught my eye. It was titled: Nothing Left I’ve grown a fear of intimacy. allowing you to get so close that your fires burn the very flesh that bound me together. Breaking down the walls I’ve built to protect my core. My heart resides in the shambles of the broken pieces left behind. Parts of me left a shadow of what once was whole. Bits and pieces fell in the path behind me. Being stolen by ignoble beholders. Until there’s nothing left.

BACK TO PRESENT Emmanuella finally left me to my own peace and once she left I decided to see if I could get a well deserving rest before someone comes up. I was so lost in thought even though I was fast asleep at the same time that I didn't notice someone tapping me or should I say, I was dreaming that I didn't notice. "My love,my love, why are you sleeping? Wake up" I repeatedly felt someone calling out to me but I didn't budge not until the tapping got worst that I woke up to see a tall fair skinned boy standing beside me with a high afro hair cut. His hands raised up probably getting ready to tap me again.

“Get some rest, Danica.” I closed my eyes just as he walked out of my room. Finally leaving me alone. The next morning brought a mixture of unwanted thoughts. But the biggest one was regret. Regret that I took the bike. Regret that I didn’t try to crash that bike into a tree instead of a car. Regret that I woke from this accident. But I also woke with something else inside my head. Thoughts of him. Mr. Hardin. I wondered what he saw when his dark grey eyes stared back at me.

Natasha rolled around on the bed, unable to sleep. It had been hours after she had left Diane in the living room, yet she hadn’t slept a wink. She hated nights like these – nights when she couldn’t sleep; nights she was plagued with thoughts of her ex-boyfriend whom she still very much loved; plagued with thoughts of her daughter who was just in the room across hers; plagued with thoughts of her irresponsibility.

He could start crying, but would it help? Thaddeus remembered several other boys who had been caught up in this dark, rat-infested alleyway alone with the older boys. It was a saga he was quite familiar with, you either end up losing your money or you cry home with a scraped knee and a broken nose. If he stayed, similar fate awaites him. If he ran, he might get lucky. "Too dull to pause, or make an end..." A line from a poem whose title seemed fuzzy in his head.

“I think they might be sleeping. Why? What are you planning?” She heard him snort in disbelief. “You wouldn’t believe me if I even attempted to find a way to explain it. Just keep talking to me. Tess wants to try something.” “Uh, okay. I’ve decided I want to break this Lester guy’s nose, as well, Dom. It’s only right. Sure, he left the door open for air or so he thinks, but I still need to break something on him for making me stay in this pit of mildew...” She stopped and bolted up on the cot when there was a sound in the corner that broke the never-ending silence. Squinting, she thought she could see the outline of someone. Like people just appear out of nowhere! Great! “Dom? I’m st

I'm sure I looked ridiculous hiding under my covers like a child but in my bed, I could pretend that I had dreamed him up. I finally convinced myself to get up and put my pajamas back on. I had already twisted my hair up and was on my way to remove my makeup when I heard beating on my door. Not knocking but beating, like the fucking police were outside. I tiptoed in my hallway looking down the hall at my door, it seemed further away from normal like in those dreams where no matter how far you run it's still just as far away.

Then there were the fangs and the biting— Yeah—how high school is it to have dirty dreams about a vampire? To hell with it, because in these dirty dreams, Gaia had the best sex she'd ever had. It had gotten so bad, that on nights she didn't dream of him, she'd lie in bed using all her might to conjure his spirit. When these dreams did happen, Gaia could not control them. She always woke the next morning, sometimes sore, in her bed, alone, and fully clothed in pajamas that she never remembered putting on.