Poetry About Innocence Novels & Stories

And because she found understanding before madness tried to mix into it, that same innocence earned her forgiveness. Love is innocent as well, love is crazy, too.

He asked, still unsure about her behaviour, while caressing her lips. She shuddered. "I don’t know why you ask me the same question... And what does it mean to be innocent...?" She tilted her head like an innocent child, giving him no room to doubt further. He took a step back, handling her scarf while wrapping it around her neck. He saw the marks of passion or a cruel act he didn’t know about. Maybe last night he did. She was saying the truth. "Wear some other full-sleeve and full-neck dresses."

She exudes confidence. Yet as she gets near I see the doubts, the insecurity. I wish I were a man of poetry, but poetic words had been stripped from my soul. Besides, poetry is the domain of lovers, and the one thing I will not do is be dishonest with her. I have no heart with which to gift her, and I do not want to give her false hope that I might suddenly obtain one. Although for a fleeting moment, I think that if I could purchase one for her, I would.

Because people like me don't receive miracles. I was alone, I could feel from how looming the house felt and from how quiet it was, so quiet that I could hear the sounds of my heart slipping away. I don't know where I got the strength to wake up a second time but all I know was that as long as I have it, I'm going to use it. Till my last breath. "Mo…moon goddess…I don't know if you can…hear me…I don't even know if you're real. All I know is that you are the only one I can do in my time of grief…"

It somehow made me gaze upon her innocence and view her as…even more precious. The fact that she threw herself into that circumstance, not knowing how it’d end, but thinking…maybe from stories that she had been told…that I would just let her go, was endearing. Hence, my little pecks and teases showed her what could have happened. The endless possibilities. The fact that any other depraved man would have taken that opportunity to explore her innocence… both scared and enchanted me. She was too pure for this world…too pure for me. I knew that, and yet, I couldn’t stop.

This burned something in him, something that wasn't there for months. Those nervous, awkward eyes, the way she kept on looking everywhere but no his eyes made something tingle in his chest. This wasn't good, the monster wasn't supposed to be tempted by someone as innocent as her, he was destined to someone like him, someone as merciless and cruel as him then, Why was he so tempted by this unknown enchantress? _____________________________

“Thirteen years he has been locked in darkness. Thirteen years without a taste of freedom.” Then stretched out his arms as if presenting a gift. “Now the gates are open. If he takes you down, he walks out as a free wolf.” My breath hitched. I shook my head, unable to process it. “And if you manage to survive him…” He paused, eyes gleaming with wicked promise. “You will remember the blood you spill, how it coats you, how it sings while it ruins you. And you will know the truth, dove.” He leaned in. “Innocence dies easy. I want your soul to decay slowly because some sins do not stain. They devour.”

••• Innocence can be captivating, innocence can be dangerous at times, but in the devil's very own tale, it can become dangerously captivating. •••

after everything I went through, still just insults I did my study on those creatures for years, and I can still remember some of my favourite poetry and poems I read as a kid A Last Word by Ernest Dowson Let us go hence: the night is now at hand; The day is overworn, the birds all flown; And we have reaped the crops the gods have sown; Despair and death; deep darkness o'er the land, Broods like an owl; we cannot understand Laughter or tears, for we have only known Surpassing vanity: vain things alone Have driven our perverse and aimless band. Let us go hence, somewhither strange and cold, To Hollow Lands where just men and unjust Find end of labour, where's rest for the old, Freedom to all

“What time is it?” “It is night. Midnight?” “Oh, then why aren’t you asleep?” “Well, because you are awake?” “You should have slept. I would have met you tomorrow morning” “What nonsense are you saying?” He sighed. “You are so good” “You are better” “I am not” “You will realize it”