Poems Long Distance Relationship Novels & Stories

Heartbreak; something I haven’t felt in an overwhelming drove since the day I watched him disappear into the airport terminal three years ago. The wooden bench seems to be more comfortable than it has in the past, and I move it into a position where I can sit and lean back onto the picnic table so I can look out into this view that I have been so captivated with ever since I moved to this apartment. I guess this was inevitable. Perhaps he was always bound to find another person; proximity is so important when it comes to love, or keeping relationships together. Hell, that’s just humanity. There’s a reason why long distance relationships never last, that is unless the people involved are eith

Miss all that is in him. I just found out this is how hard long-distance marriage is. Those who undergo LDM have to praise them. They are so tough, so strong that someone never even complained. Because to say hi at the end of the phone is very difficult. Moreover, the difference in time is emotionally draining all the time. Time really never supports me.

"Nothing can dim the love I have for you, no matter the distance between us." We spend a few more precious moments on the phone, exchanging heartfelt words and sharing the depth of our emotions. Each word, each expression of love, strengthens the bond that holds us together. As we bid each other goodbyes, a promise lingers in the air, a promise that our love will transcend the physical barriers that separate us. And with that promise in our hearts, we find solace in the knowledge that our love knows no bounds, reaching across space and time to unite two souls in an unbreakable love.

The words, penned in the silent piece of longing, spoke of a mother's love that transcended the boundaries of physical presence. Samantha, reading the words that had traveled through time to reach her, felt a profound shift within. It was a confirmation of the enduring love that had weathered the storms of absence. The revelation brought tears, not of sorrow, but of the recognition that, even in their years apart, the threads of love had never loosened.

In that moment, he realized that he wasn't alone in his pain, that his mother had experienced her own share of longing and separation. As the tears subsided, Lucy gently pulled away, cupping Robert's face in her hands, her eyes filled with empathy. "Remember, my darling, distance is only physical. Love knows no boundaries. Alena holds a special place in your heart, and no matter the miles that separate you, that connection will endure." Robert nodded, his breathing steadying as he absorbed his mother's words of wisdom. The ache within him remained, but he felt a renewed sense of strength, a flicker of hope igniting within his soul.

She even made friends with a guy and a girl and you all know how possessive I'm, but when she said he is gay, I left him for the courtesy for Athena. I need her beside me and that's all I want. So I patiently waited for her to finish her course. We didn't get married, yet, because I wanted her to finish college first and then enter into our life. Her dream is my first priority. She asked me whether I was okay with this. I told her that her priority is mine and we still have our lives ahead of us. Sometimes during her days in college, she would just send her picture quoting 'I miss you.'. She doesn't know I was dying inside missing her. I got used to her in my arms each morning and the past t

I was afraid she might get used to it - the feeling of being in love - and when the time comes, she'll get tired of it. Long Distance Relationship was a hell. Hindi ko kailanman naisip ang sarili ko na pinapasok ang ganitong uri ng relasyon. Hindi ko kailanman naisip na magwo-work ang ganito na kung saan ang tanging komunikasyon lang namin ay ang gadgets na meron kami. But because I love Matti so much, that will be going to be easy for me. Or so I thought.

Water stains shaped like abstract continents stared back. This was the part they don’t tell you about long distance. It’s not the big dramatic moments—the airport goodbyes, the tearful reunions. It’s the small ones. The way the silence between texts feels longer than it should. The way you start talking to the empty room out loud because it’s better than the quiet. The way you catch yourself reaching for someone who isn’t there when you roll over in bed at 3 a.m. My phone buzzed. Dante: you’re not allowed to be cute when I can’t kiss you for it

"If you want me to forgive you, then wait three years." He lit up, then faltered. "Why three years?" "I'm going overseas to study. It might take longer. If you don't want to wait—" "I'll wait," he cut in, almost tripping over the words. "If it means you'll forgive me, I'll wait for as long as it takes..." He kept talking, piling promise after promise. However, I didn't listen to any of them. All I heard was him saying, again and again, that he would wait.

Sleep was enough meant he was lying in the dark staring at the ceiling the way I was lying in the dark staring at mine, two hundred miles apart, both of us pretending the distance was temporary when it felt like it was calcifying into something permanent with every passing day. I wrote my column from my childhood desk. The words came differently here – slower, heavier, coloured by the specific loneliness of being in the house where you grew up while the life you built somewhere else continues without you. I wrote about distance. About the cruelty of phones that let you hear someone's voice but not feel their skin. About how silence from the person you love sounds different than silence from