Broken Dreams Poetry Novels & Stories

I couldn't stop thinking about how Jack called me a slut and how Aubrey just completely left me for dead out there. It’s not like any of this was really even my fault. After what felt like hours of more crying, I finally managed to fall asleep. ~3 hours later~ The sound of something banging against my window catches me by surprise, having me immediately jolt awake as fear begins to engulf me. What the fuck was that? I grow still against my sheets as the sound repeats itself, this time sounding more like a sequence of patterns. Is somebody here? Slowly, I make my way over to my window before slowly pushing open my blinds.

Thank you so much for reading "Broken Nightmare"! The second book will be out in about April of 2021 and I can't wait to share it with you. Here is a sneak-peek so you can take a look! Chapter 1 I woke slowly with my head pounding, feeling very disoriented. It was pitch black in my room as I opened my eyes. I reached over to turn my bedroom lamp on, but felt nothing. Where was my lamp? And then it all came back flooding to me. Liam kidnapped. Claire and the pack missing. The imprint.

Its heat had not yet reached its full rage, but already the neighborhood was awake—women sweeping doorways with twig brooms, children chasing one another through puddles, and hawkers calling out wares before the day’s fatigue dulled their voices. Promise sat on the stoop of their small room, tying her scarf tighter around her head. The notebook lay open on her lap, yesterday’s words staring back at her: Dreams stitched by fire will not unravel. She traced the sentence with her finger, the pencil marks smudging faintly, then added in smaller letters: Even broken shoes must keep walking.

I lost that night, because I failed. I failed the eyes that cried, the eyes that died, the smile that I thrive and the wish to be a bride. I failed my dreams, in those teary streams, the bliss of my life, that turned into my screams. I became a broken toy, left with nothing but empty batteries. Batteries that needed light, but by the time I could reach it, I was long dead. I realized that, that night was really long, because I had five men to please and little to no breaths to breathe.

Sleep woken or dream broken, entangled or untangled, love burnt or hate soaked, praised here or blamed there, dealt with or dealt in cheered for or jeered at, I too fathom, what now, actually? It’s your voice I then hear: “Crystal drops of moments, creating a stream of tales about you and me!” There’s that waxing crescent in the east revelling with a billion tinsel aides, hums in my ears “It’s now, it’s now!” I turn away from the silver dots: It’s your smile I see. Drenched in or dried up bloomed up or withered ‘way,

All your pores and demons will be laid out for all to see. This is how broken-hearted men feel all the time. Even if he tries to sleep it off like a human, he’ll only prolong the numbness and meld one false dream into the next. With no concern for time in the outside world because it feels like everything has dropped dead on their tracks, he’ll chase dreams of Oriana disappearing into a crowd – not staying in one place no matter what he tells her – and the pillows will be stained with a moistness he has never really understood and will never be able to understand.

Come to me in the silence of the night; Come in the speaking silence of a dream; Come with soft rounded cheeks and eyes as bright As sunlight on a stream; Come back in tears, O memory, hope, love of finished years. O dream how sweet, too sweet, too bitter sweet, Whose wakening should have been in Paradise, Where souls brimfull of love abide and meet; Where thirsting longing eyes Watch the slow door That opening, letting in, lets out no more. Yet come to me in dreams, that I may live My very life again though cold in death:

He squinted his eyes at it. I smiled softly to myself before I continued. “It's heartbreak. Broken trust, shattered dreams, the flame that warmed their hearts now flickers. The cracks are to show what's broken even in a painting so beautiful, the shadows to show the darkness that has taken away everything they once had… I wanted to capture the pain even in something so beautiful” I explained. He was silent for a while too long before humming. “It's haunting”

I tilted my neck to find the room empty. I breathed out and collapsed on the floor with hot tears trailing down on my cheeks which I never knew I held. They say a caged bird remains in the cage no matter how much it tries to fly away with its broken wings. It will always remain weak, broken and shackled. And here I was the one. All broken, numb and destroyed. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- I hope you like it. Thoughts so far?

Certainly, her own parent's marriage hadn't been like this. She seems to subscribe to nightmares, leaving her exhausted the next day. She dreamt of losing a tooth or falling from tall buildings, a skyscraper perhaps. Or being chased by things she couldn't put her fingers on. "It is bizarre and cryptic," she related to Abubakar one morning as he sips his coffee, "this new one I had last night. I was in a park somewhere, just walking by myself, and my right leg fell off. No blood or anything. It was like I was a Barbie doll. I was so upset, wondering how I was going to get around without that leg, and then my arm broke off at the elbow, and I picked it up and tried to hold it in place, and I w