Poetic Rizz Novels & Stories

It's that same silent persona that refuses to tell him about my poems, that part that said i liked cooking when i can't boil an egg right. It's that same version of me that watches from the sidelines, the part that has said i-told-you-so so many times, it's now cliche. That quiet profile that is painfully aware of the fact that anyone that comes too close to me dies. We were sparks of light, dancing, twirling, brightly, in perfect symphonic twists of alchemy. We were something in between flames of fire and the ashes of a smoke. Something in between infatuation and obsession, in between Juliet's romeo and Luscious' cookie.

’ He was slow, rhythmic, gentle, moving down my body, down … and I was nothing but my body there was a sharp brief pain brief and then a sweet spasm went through me and I seemed to rise into the air no more pain just the sweetness the incredible oh, the and then Rishi, panting I pressed him hard against me. . . . . . . to be continued......

She doesn’t know why but a part of her feels she should give it someone more deserving ,Someone who truly cares for her . He started cheating on her making her look like a fool when in actual fact ,She is very much in love with him . Rissa feel like dying .She could feel her heart aching really bad . She started singing I must not known I must not have known you Even though I ‘m so close to you What is really precious always seems to Disappear . One more time One more time Can’t you be by my side one more time I still love you and only you Love is better than regretting later

The bond flared again—hotter, lighter, laced with that reckless edge that clung to him. “Ready, Princess?” he asked. “No,” I said honestly. He laughed. “Good,” he said. “Neither am I.” *** Rian’s style was different from Kael’s. Less disciplined. More… creative. He moved like a dancer who’d grown up with a blade in each hand. Spins, feints, footwork that bordered on showy and only just stayed on the right side of effective. For the first few exchanges, I was too busy not dying to appreciate it.

“And overused.” “Tragic,” she said. “All those poor poets with nothing new to write.” “They’ll survive,” he said. “They always do.” “I heard one of them was already working on ‘Ballad of Blade and Banner,’” Talia chimed in. “With at least three lines about ‘heron wings of peace’ and ‘fangs in twilight.’” Rin groaned. “If anyone sings that in my hearing, I’m setting something on fire.” “Probably the singer,” Rhea said from the front, not looking back.

“Though, some guests are harder to impress than others. Don’t worry you’ll grow to love it here, warrior.” Caelan frowned. “Not really my scene.” Lazriel’s smile only widened. “Oh, you say that now. But everyone has a scene… or a sin. Yours just hasn’t introduced itself yet.” Caelan looked deeply unimpressed. “Do you always speak in riddles?” he asked dryly. Lazriel gasped as if he’d been stabbed. “Riddles? Darling, that hurts me. I speak in poetry. In artistry, just wrapped up in sequins and innuendo.”