Love Poems For Getting Her Back Mga Nobela at Kwento

It’s like praying for a God who doesn’t exist. Love is like that God for me, a mere belief with no fact as I believe in something I see with my own eyes, and I haven’t seen love. I brought her back, from that hellhole, from Ivy’s grasp she’s finally mine to hold. There were so many things I wanted to say, to shout and scream and yell and cry and get angry about, to stop her from leaving again, leaving me again.

he asked his mind, trying to decipher what she meant. “Are you still waiting for her? The woman of your dreams? Your first love? Are you stalling from being introduced as mine just because of her?” she asked pain in her voice. “I am not yours. I don't belong to anyone.” “Ezra,” she said and then paused. She was trying to gather her thoughts together so she did not say anything she was going to regret. No matter what he did, she was going to hold onto him till the end. If his first love happened to come back, she was not going to allow her to have him. She already had her chance, and she blew it.

In the stillness of night, she waits, Her heart heavy with longing and ache, Her love lies in slumber, in death's embrace, But hope flickers, refusing to break. With each passing hour, she holds his hand, Whispering words of love, soft and grand, Her tears fall like petals, delicate and true, As she prays for his awakening, for love renewed . In this realm of love, she patiently resides, With unwavering faith, her heart abides,

She held me back. We clung to each other in the dusty darkness of the abandoned room, and we wept. Tears streamed down my face, soaking into her shoulder. Her tears fell into my hair. Neither of us spoke. There were no words for this. No words for the years lost, the moments stolen, the love that had been ripped away and was now, impossibly, returned. "I have dreamed of this," I whispered. "Every night. Every single night, I dreamed of holding you."

“A matchmaking mission.” “Oh no,” she said immediately, shaking her head. “No, no, no, I’m not doing this again.” “Please!” I pleaded dramatically, clutching her arm. “Just listen first!” She sighed. “Fine. Go ahead, Andrea Cupid.” I smiled. “I want to get Logan and Sylvia back together.” Violet blinked. “What?” “Yes!” I said, bouncing slightly on the bench. “They have this… unfinished story, you know? The way they look at each other, it’s still there. The feelings. It’s so obvious!”

I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her close to me and she froze, as if trying to pull away but I was not willing to let her go. “Ariana,” I murmured. “If I could reverse time and go back to the moment I let you go, I would. But time doesn’t work that way. All I have now is this moment, and I will spend it trying to make you see that I would never let you go again. I love you, and I always have.” I didn't know when I suddenly turned into a poet but I guess it was because of the love I had for her which She couldn't see.

The only thing I can think about was returning back to her. “Please come back to me unchanged.” she said cupping my cheeks. “I love you, more than anything in this world.” *****

I sobbed for a while. I wished at that moment I could rewind time or better be the one to suffer the pain. She doesn’t deserve a hurt or a tear, nothing of that sort. “Amazingly beautiful and ethereal time can’t hold a candle to how beautiful you’re.” I sat at the bed grabbing a cold hand placing a soft kiss to the top of her palm. “Please come back to me, my love. I need you, we all need you back my rainbow in the storm, light in the dark, and my breath of life.”

“I think I am.” That night, she returned to her unfinished poem the one she had started after Liam’s apology. The paper had yellowed slightly at the edges, the ink faded, but the words still glimmered: ‘Some loves come back as ghosts, others as mirrors. The hardest are the ones that come back as questions.’ She added a new line beneath it: ‘And maybe I was the answer that scared him the most.’ Her tears dropped onto the page like punctuation marks. Days turned to weeks. Every time her phone buzzed, her pulse betrayed her.

I had chased Laurent for four agonizing years, only succeeding in marrying him when Serena left to pursue her ballet dreams in Paris. Yet now, three years into our marriage, she came back on the night I confirmed my pregnancy. His heart flew straight back to her. It was almost funny. After all this time, even a stone should have warmed up in my hands. As I stared at the photo, a violent ache throbbed in my chest. It felt as though my heart had been ripped apart, thrown onto the ground, and callously stomped on. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and finally made up my mind.