Poetry With Soul の小説・ストーリー

He gave her his widest grin and pecked her lips this time around. "Hmm, lemme pour my own new poem for you. It's a lonely night Silently watching the heaven above that has no gap Quietly wishing it also has the small crack That is separating my heart from being one and whole The stars are getting acquainted to each other Helping the other twinkle And I wish they'd look down at me and flicker the dying Light in my soul and bring it back to life Still watching as the old dry palm branch shaped moon Slowly drifts down to the appointed term

Sometimes, the body remembers what the soul tries to forget. It wasn't the pain that broke me, but the way my body stopped belonging to me. Every unwanted touch was another crack. A piece of me vanishing without a sound. I arrived to Chicago months ago, and I still struggle to breathe. This city doesn’t embrace me—it watches me. Everything is clean, cold, precise. Neon lights flicker like fake stars, and the rain hits the windows with military discipline. It’s a world built to function, not to feel.

“Try this, Hope is the thing with feathers..’” He interrupted with a groan. “You said no bird poems.” “This one’s different,” I said. “It stays in the heart, not in a cage.” He looked up at me, still skeptical but willing. “Fine. But you say the first part.” I did, the lines rolling off my tongue, softer than I meant them to. “Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul, and sings the tune without the words, and never stops at all.”

Stella chatted casually. "Elizabeth Barrett Browning? 'The Soul's Expression'?" "That's a good one, but my favorite is 'How Do I Love Thee'. It goes like this: How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height. My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight. For the ends of being and ideal grace." Stella recited a few lines of the poem. "I have never heard of that." Jasper put the washed tomatoes onto the plate.

Some people even thought it replicated the actual Hell. Ruax planned to trap Hade in the stone. This way he could live another 150 years in this body without being put away in a dormancy. It was a curse that whenever the Alpha of the old soul had a child, the wolf would be put to dormancy within the child. The Alpha, on the other hand, would gain another newer soul in it’s stead. It ensured that the old souls would not be able to cause such chaos. It was a kind of safety lock for the amount of time an ancient wolf can surface.

It was as if the very essence of her being breathed life into my weary soul, infusing me with a renewed sense of purpose and vitality. In that moment, I felt as though I could conquer In the depths of the wilderness, where the moon's silver glow danced upon the towering trees, I found solace in the company of a kindred spirit. She possessed a wisdom that seemed to transcend time, her eyes holding the secrets of countless moons.

|•| ANDRÉ BAUDELAIRE |•| The recession of the moon into its dark shell in the clouds, mirrored the incessant chip at my soul for the past few days. It seemed as if something inside me was getting chopped off as each day went by and I recoiled from the one girl who made me feel so alive.

Where have I climbed, after a recent fall? To fall is no sin if it enables a later rise. What I have achieved cannot be announced or gifted a crown. Life has left me alone with hope. And now I dwell in peace with my role. This is my soul. My role is peace. Digging deep within, I find scope forever living. What is wrong with the world I need not believe. Let me correct the sword and the shield, for the deadly enemy is all within. Capturing myself, creating substance - I have enabled riches creation from the mud that sustains self-longer than the stone! I now witness longevity as a longing desire. If death can be fought, why not a trial? But no one listens to whispers or responds to life’s wan

I closed my eyes, forcing myself to calm down and shut my wolf. “Damn it.” I curled in pain after forcefully subduing my wolf. The pain was immeasurable. It was like I was being torn apart from the inside. We were taught how to subdue our wolves, but it wasn’t advisable to do frequently because it was believed to ruin our souls. It took almost an hour to recover, and it was still painful, but I could step out of the car to breathe. I feel suffocated until now, and my emotions are all over the place.

The pressure is suffocating, a weight that presses upon my chest, making it hard to breathe, hard to think, hard to live. In this prison of my mother's making, my soul is slowly withering away, a delicate flower crushed by the heel of ambition. My heart is a heavy burden, a weight that threatens to consume me at any moment. The tears I cry are tears of despair, tears of anger, tears of frustration. The tears I cry are tears of a life unlived, tears of a dream deferred, tears of a soul forever lost.