Novel & Cerita Poems On Innocence

She read the poem on the topmost page: Blurry eyes, in a haze, Cry silently near the window, Go without speaking for days, Written words are all that remain. What did I do wrong? You call me a disgrace. Sleep with pretty women, perfect bodies Yet you dare show me that face? I sit by my lonesome, Never a hair out of place, Temptation walks by, You get in the way. Dismay, disarray, I seek comfort, The warmth of a stranger's arms,

A kind of innocence which would make anyone fall for it and if not fall then to torment as per desire. His eyes wandered all over her face and finally stopped at her lips which were slightly parted. He noticed that small cut on her pink full lips and he already knew how she got it. His hand automatically made its way towards her mouth. He gently brushed his thumb against the corner of her lips. He was completely drunk that night but he could clearly remember how soft and luscious she had felt and tasted to him that night and that thing made him irrational because after feeling her sweetness, he had started despising just the thought of someone else feeling, touching or tasting her warmth, in

After knowing everything still, I am doing all this don’t know why. ‘Though both of your tricks can only make me smile in alone, still the thing you want is not possible. I and you are like two parallel lines who can travel together for our baby but we can never be together.’ ‘You are only making way difficult for both of us, nothing else.’ ‘If you think I am mad at you because of the slap, then you are wrong.’ ‘A painful word of somebody’s tongue hurts more than stabbed wound. Similarly, more than your slap, your words hurt me, your mistrust didn’t hurt but your accusation hurt.’

Other dirty, non-fatherly thoughts. “I tried to get rid of those thoughts. I tried to convince myself that you're too innocent. Too immature. Too…conservative. Too inexperienced. But then those are what I like about you, Willow. You're innocent, in a way that excites a man like me. You're…conservative, so that means you don't have time to indulge horny little boys. You're inexperienced, that means I'm gonna have the pleasure of being the first guy to expose you to the beauty of life. You're immature, so I'm gonna have to be your Daddy. So you see, I just couldn't…get out of my head.” My throat was dry. I was gulping endlessly, trying to wet it up.

“Just like a moonflower that only blooms at the full moon and night. You are a rare one, by which purity is gaze upon the sky.” From the past and the words that wavered her unexpectedly and unknowingly. Her heart that should not beat a thing nor any emotions at hand changes with that time, with his words and his very smile. As innocence it might be tag as his young self and days back then is nothing but play and naivety. The one she should guard, look after and observe was the same one who drags her in the pit of doom she failed to resist.

My pen hovered above it, the ink trembling at the tip. Words. Just words. But they carried power when wielded correctly. I wrote slowly, deliberately, each letter carved like a promise: No one will have you but me. I stared at the sentence, heat surging through my veins. It wasn’t a threat it was truth. I could already picture the way her eyes would widen when she read it, the way her breath would hitch, fear mingling with the awareness she always tried to deny. Fear bound people tighter than love ever could.

Or not enough? With a sigh, she dipped her pen in ink and began to write, her emotions finding shape in verse: A withered rose, forgotten in the vase, Still thirsts for light, for water, and for grace. Though petals fall and vibrant hues have fled, A fragrance lingers where beauty once was bred. The gardener passes, blind to silent plea, His gaze fixed firm on fresher blooms than she. Yet still she stands, her purpose not yet done, A quiet dignity beneath the sun.

Yet in my previous life, that secret love had brought me nothing but suffering. Only then did I understand that Flora was never a good match for me. Seeing that I did not argue back, Flora's expression turned even more certain. She let go of me and spoke in a righteous tone, "Give it up, Vincent. I only see you as a brother. If something had truly happened between us yesterday… Well, I would have taken responsibility, but I would never fall in love with you. All I would feel is disgust!"

We force them in our shoes, but we seldom put us in the pitied. Continuously driving ourselves to this diminished society, looking for worth when there is nothing left because of us. Here I am writing this poem. Is it filled with irony? Considerable as a meek step for an extravagant change? Or are you guilty of these words? We all are. We may not pull out our modern notebooks to be witnesses, but we keep our eyes on the action. We stare. We watch. We look at the devil's eye instead. Grasp the valorous act, yet still fill it with real humility.

He was talking as if I was a Saint. Wait, I was a Saint. It was true, I never made mistakes. I had never attended a single college party. I was always on time to get to class and I did my homework perfectly and submitted it on time if not the first one. I never even had a boyfriend or friends. I guess that had to do with me being a nerd. I mean, it is college, where everyone wants to have fun and I am not....fun. I was quiet and as most people would describe me, naive and nerdy. People like me were termed as boring.