Poems About Feelings Novels & Stories

The wind swallowed his words, but the anguish remained, festering in his chest like an open wound. He felt like he was drowning in his own tears, suffocating under the weight of his sorrow. The sea seemed to laugh at him, its waves crashing against the shore with a rhythm that felt like mockery. Lewis collapsed to his knees, his body wracked with sobs, as he whispered, "Why can't anyone see me? Why can't anyone love me for who I am?" The only response was the relentless pounding of the waves, a reminder that some wounds might never heal.

“Why does that hurt?” The question barely leaves the being’s lips before the first tear falls. Not metaphorically. Not symbolically. Literally A single silver drop slips down its face And reality trembles The moment it touches the space beneath us Existence changes Not violently. Not destructively. Emotionally A wave spreads outward through the void beyond the system. Sadness Relief Longing Love Not overwhelming. Shared Like the universe itself suddenly learned how to feel. Theodore stares in horror

I simultaneously become the kept man of three powerful, high-ranking women. The first is the aloof Grand Tutor, Misty Standish. Her heart belongs solely to her childhood sweetheart, the son of the chancellor's legal wife. The second is the rakish Marchioness, Sienna Fairfax. She flutters her fan and chuckles. "We both get what we want. There's no need to complicate business with feelings." The third is the all-powerful Princess Royal, Christina Livingstone. "Know your place. My consort will only ever be a nobleman," she coldly warns me. Everything changes when I save up enough money and return to my hometown to marry my childhood sweetheart and fiancee, Claire Mortimer. Ms. Standish l

Raisa wrote a poem entitled in the quiet, she then reread her work. In a lonely corner of the silent night, I hug your shadow in this loneliness. The longing that slices the heart, Flowed with tears that did not stop. In every beat of my heart, There is your name that echoes sadly. The hope that used to strengthen, Now only a painful memory. I walk in empty hallways, Without direction, without light. All the promises you once made, Are now just shadows that disappear slowly. Time passes slowly and cruelly, Leaving deep wounds.

Without filling. The love that is bridges every distance. Without bridging. The being that is connects every separate. Without connecting. Only this. The reader may feel a vast peace. The reader may feel a sharp clarity. The reader may feel ordinary boredom. The reader may feel profound insight. All feelings are this. All non-feelings are this. No preference. No rejection. Only this. The light that is. The love that is. The being that is. The peace that is. The clarity that is.

“What mom? How can you say that--” She gave me her phone. There was a poem he had written. “I’d love it if you read this and think that I feel anything for her-- “She was my life, she left, life left. Never had anything, even my soul has left. Being a boy was never the best thing, When the only girl I ever loved left. Do you know that feeling? When there is nothing to see? Because you just don’t know What you should be? When there is no reason to live

my poem reads thus. ....... A LOVE POEM BY FETTY... I use to think love was an illusion and an overrated feeling of hopelessness I had this notion of how much of a hyped feeling this abstract thing was Infact, I downgraded this magical feeling and made it a foot mat Until I fell.... Falling completely in love with you made me realize every possible assumption of love is a reality And this magical feeling is taking me round the world in an instant You are the abstract fabric that kneads every bit of my heart and make melodious symphonies out of my heartbeat

There was a way, I just needed to find it and Jasper could help me, I could feel it. I picked out a book that was filled with poems and sat back down on the chair. I started reading each page, the words were beautiful. ’As the rain pours down I feel your love. As the wind blows I hear your voice. As the birds sing I can see your eyes. For your memory is something that never died’ ’A rose with thorns is my tale of love. The beauty as majestic as the petals, the feeling as lovely as the color, the heartbreak as painful as the stabs’

I pulled one out at random, a collection of poetry, and began to read. I sat on the couch, surrounded by the silence of the beach house, lost in the words of the poetry book. The verses spoke of love, loss, and longing. I felt a pang in my chest as I read, recognizing the emotions that had been swirling inside me. The poet's words were like a mirror, reflecting my own thoughts and feelings back at me.

It was at that point that a poem came to mind; “What is this strange feeling called? Like an empty can I feel void of emotions, void of life I feel the silence strangling life off me I want to scream I want to shout But no, The only thing that came out is a noise, not even loud enough to show just how I feel”