Poetry Lover Novels & Stories

he collected a glass of champagne from the waitress that passed us by “I loved a girl once, genuinely” “I don't love Lorenzo, don't get ahead of yourself” I fixed my gaze on Lorenzo and Cheyenne who were now slow dancing with each other “Yes, but you feel something deep and special for him” Haze moved closer to me. “Even though you're too stubborn to admit it” he chuckled. “I'll continue with my story… I loved a girl once, I found myself doing things for her I never thought u would ever do for anyone… you won't believe, I began learning how to cook because upon my stalking, I figured out she liked guys who can cook”

His hand reached forward, performed a few operations and the melody of a sad love song sounded. He admits that he is a lovesick person. He can't even distinguish between faithfulness and stupidity. He doesn't even know if a person like him is praiseworthy or blameworthy.

I was breathless, he always got me there. The moonlight spilled into the room and was our only way of seeing anything. The dim light was comforting and made every unexpected touch intensify. I loved the feeling of him being close to me. His words rather whispers made me feel things I never felt before. Everything about him is unique and special, I love him and I will always do. Spending time with him is all I want, I pulled him closer to me, and as he pressed my naked body, I smiled and kissed him, he opened his mouth to make the kiss, even more, deeper, as his tongue played with mine, I moaned with satisfaction.

I ask not believing. "I don't understand how you could possibly love someone like me." The argument is refuted by him. "It's not complicated at all. I love you because you have numerous abilities, you are passionate about what you believe in, you love your family and friends, you are willing to fight for what is right, and you never give up. All of these things contribute to why I love you. I love you for all of those reasons, but the most important reason is because I love you for who you are and the fact that you don't judge other people based on who they are." Because I no longer feel threatened by looking into his blue eyes, I have begun to cry again. He puts both of his hands on my chin

Micah mouthed at Arthur and put his hand on Arthur's shoulder. Micah pointed out two girls, one shorter than the other. But at that moment it didn't matter the size, as they were both very pretty. However, that girl with her short stature lacked nothing. She had the curves that a woman should have, Arthur shook his head and then took another swig of his whiskey. “You are incorrigible…” He said to his friend, laughing. “Negative.” The Israeli clicked his teeth, “I am a lover of beautiful women”. “So you don't say that you collect them”.

After the birthday party was over, while our guests were saying their final goodbye here and there, I briskly walked out of the hall and into our bedroom, to check if everything was in place. The room was dimly lit with candles scattered around the floor as its source of illumination. The smell of the roses enveloped the room, creating a romantic atmosphere. I put on a piece of slow but soft-flowing music. “All I need is your love tonight,” I sang, alongside the music playing in the background. I paced back and forth, staring at the huge clock at intervals. “Why the fuck is she not here?” I asked, growing impatient. In less than a second, the door creaked open.

Master Graden had a collection of poetry books in his home library and she had read them during her free time. The poem was titled, "A Red, Red Rose" composed by Scotland's national poet, Robert Burns. It described the poet's deep love for his beloved and promised that his love would last longer than human life and even the planet itself, remaining fresh and constant forever. The words were so moving and Melissa felt her heart warmed instantly.

Do you know how many years you'd serve if Jessy actually pressed charges? I stared at him in disbelief, and a chuckle escaped me before I could think. 'Was this the man I once loved? I must've been blind,' I thought to myself.

As days that felt unremarkable until they stacked together and became a life. Love, practiced daily. Love that shows up tired. Love that listens when it would rather speak. Love that remains when there is nothing to fight. Love that does not demand proof. Just a home, lived in fully. A home with worn furniture and familiar sounds. With memories layered into walls not as scars, but as warmth. A home that holds laughter and grief without privileging one over the other. A home where no one is waiting for the other shoe to drop. A home where the future is allowed to be open.

More jewels and gowns than I could count. Every night he needed me, I’d put on whatever lacy thing he picked out. We’d have sex. Five years. 999 times. There were moments—his sweat dripping on my forehead, his soft breaths inside me, the way he’d look at me—when I let myself dream he loved me. Then the video dropped. Him. On the street. Kissing another woman. I knew the truth. He was my keeper, not my lover. Everyone laughed. They couldn't wait to see me lose my mind, begging him to keep me.