Romans & histoires Edgar Allan Poe Poetry Alone

She could attract anyone towards her like a magnet. “Do you have a mate?” She asks and I am yet again surprised at the knowledge of this child. She looks very young to know about mates but maybe she doesn’t really know what mates mean. Feeling the gaping hole in my chest, I answer, “No.” I don’t have a mate. I cannot have a mate. I am the Lonely God. I rule alone and I prefer it this way. I am a King without a Queen. This is one of the traits that set me apart from other wolves.

Now dying because I couldn’t eat anything at all. Poetic. Stupid. Perfect. Bree was quiet. Verm accompanied me silently. Yet I felt alone. Just me and the slow, steady realization that this was it. Another day. And nobody was coming.

But as the man’s presence enveloped her, she realized something—she was alone. Alone. The realization struck her like a cold wave, and with it, a sharp, painful pang deep in her chest. She closed her eyes, hearing the whisper of laughter from the past—the sound of Raymond’s voice, the warmth of his touch, the comfort of his presence. No. She couldn’t ignore it. No matter how tempting the peace of this false world was, she couldn’t forget him.

then I gulped two more pills. I am alone... all alone... no family... no one to call as my own in this whole wide world... and then I gulped more pills... Tears and sobs were echoing in my empty house. I looked all around and I realized that I was all alone. I always will be... I have no one... then the walls started closing on me and I had only one thing to focus on... pills in my hand. I am feeling too much, I just need some more so I can stop feeling.

I fell asleep without realizing it, woke up scared, and caught myself again in that absolute light. I looked towards the door, looked at the sounds, and apparently, I was in fact alone. I never slept. I never took a nap. Elide's men never left me alone long enough to cry in peace, let alone close my eyes with peace. Just for that, because of the strangeness of that whole day, and because I thought the end was closer in some way, I got up and went back to the table.

Do you like the idea of being fucked senseless by a pack of wolves who’d buy you like livestock if they could? The mirror didn’t answer and neither did Ivy for a heartbeat. Then she whispered, small and wounded, "I just… don’t want you to be alone if they don’t come back." I let out a short, ugly, the sound that sounded like a cackle or laughter “Alone?” I hissed, dragging the zipper the rest of the way up. It caught again on a fresh welt. I yanked harder. Pain bloomed bright across my ribs. Good. Pain I understood. “Tesoro, I’ve been alone since the day my dad died. Alone is my default setting. Alone is safe. Alone means no one gets to break me except me.”

Gwen sat beside Eddie and kept looking at his handsome face. Eddie could be seen walking on a lonely road. The lonely road is an isolated street. It seems no one has ever stepped foot there. No single sign of a car. There’s no sign of activity there. No noise or shadows. Eddie felt he was walking through a ghost town. Eddie could feel fear and anxiety in all his body, thinking if there could be somebody by his side but no one was there. He kept walking and the road seemed endless. "Hello!, Anybody here". He called out, only to be greeted by the response of his echo.

Loneliness is the quiet ache of an unsung song, and I am both the composer and the audience in this solitary symphony. -Unknown. |A L E E Z A| The morning sun lazily filtered through the curtains, marking the beginning of a new day. I rose from the bed with a weariness that lingered in my bones, a heaviness born not just from the lack of sleep but from the weight of his words that clung to me like a stubborn fog.

I pretend. My thoughts are unsteady and quick, too quick to keep, too fast to hold, too thin to let them go. I am more alone than I think, more alone than I believe, more alone than I want. More alone than I want to be. The words bleed into each other, bleed like the night, like the night I am afraid of, like the night I am. The words are older than my fear, older than the woman I don’t know how to be, how to be tonight.

A bleak, thin wind it was, like a fine sour wine, searching the marrow and bringing no bloom to the cheek. Pidge knew the moment she started to cry, she was alone. She cried slowly, with tears dripping down her temples and the soft hum of her own voice echoing throughout the room. She knew she existed and breathed. It was as simple and beautiful as the strumming of a guitar. Yet, she meant nothing to anyone. She was alone, sinking deeper and deeper within her own music. The rest of the world could be seen, drifting farther and farther away as teardrops made up her ocean. They fell into her parted lips and stuck to her eyelashes. She could taste them, rolling down her parched throat. She was