Everyone has a story. Mine starts with a small group of friends, a broken heart I never saw coming, and a version of myself I barely recognize anymore.

Maybe a love poem with part of my heart within it. All my thoughts from a hopeful view put into words. Words that add up to "i love you!!"

A poem of her, a poem of she. A poem of missing her endlessly. A poem thats part of you and me. A poem i hope one day she will read. I poem of love for her my Queen.

A poem about life and love, losing and finding love. Hopelessness and hopefulness. A personal depiction of my past.

Where Time Begins. Poetry from the heart and words from the soul. A poem about love, summer moments and two souls in love. Somewhat fancy free and somewhat light hearted.

This poem captures the struggle of singleness and the suffering of loneliness that one endures for growth in a relationship with God.

*Quelque Chose De Parfait* French Love Poem My first poem I wrote in French. I took 4 years of French and I still can't understand when it's spoken to me. But I put my heart and soul into this so that the person I love could hear it and not understand until I wanted them to.

*Someone's Sacrifice* What is life if you are constantly sacrificing for someone else's happiness? A story/poem

Audio Ghost — Synopsis In the highest vaults of Heaven, where music is the language of creation, God performs an act that shocks even the eldest seraphim: He raises an Archangel out of Hell. His name is TJ Machiavelli, once the greatest worship musician in celestial history — a composer whose harmonies could steady storms and whose rhythms could ignite galaxies. But centuries ago, pride fractured him, and he fell. Now, God retrieves him, scarred, humbled, and wrapped in black from head to toe. He wears a black welding mask with a tinted visor to hide the damage Hell carved into his face. His wings are gone. And when he plays — whether the church organ or the cosmic turntables — God keeps him chained, not as punishment, but as protection. TJ’s heart is powerful but unstable, easily swayed by longing, admiration, and the emotional intensity of music itself. One radiant Sunday morning, during a worship gathering in Heaven, TJ sees Petra Bumbleton, an angel... O.A.

a couple steeped with tension finally break the silence. prompt found from Pintrest and photo found from google

Keeping a woman in her feminine energy and forever interested in you requires a deep understanding of her needs, desires, and nature.

Ethan and Harold are saved by Madelyn and now he gets answers to what he really is, and what path he must take.

"The grieving period is far from over. However, Ma'ite, Eywa is with you. The great mother has a plan for all of us and it will soon be revealed. I pray that you believe in that." After Mo'at spoke, she moved aside to allow her daughter to be alone. In her absence, Neytiri saw as one lone atokirina floated lightly above her. Almost dancing around her head before drifting off. This was a sign. It had to be. (Disclaimer that this is somewhat an alternative drabble of events that have happened in the universe because I have not read the comics. This does not strictly follow the storyline at all.)

Mahogany thought she was going to marry a married man. Now she is engaged to her childhood friend that she has not seen in over 40 years. She is in the pickle of her life. Her only escape is her writing. She becomes stagnant and it turns out she becomes intrigued by her present drama. She puts aside her current novel that she has been working on for 5 years, to focus on this new idea. Now she has to convince her literary agent not to drop her from his roster of authors and to trust her direction.

Tap…….. Tap……. Tap…. Then silence. She looked at the clock subtly, avoiding the windows as the silence swallowed her ears. She knew better than to look at them. To pay attention to the window. She felt their eyes touch her. The stare of a mosquito. Its eyes watching her like it had walked the desert for days. The irritating buzz it makes as it watches her cooking, humming, bouncing in time with the music.

My take on a writing prompt I found on Pintrest. A 19 year old male named Lucas deals with his shadows while trying to hold onto his best friend as she finishes her last year of high school.

Disclaimer this is a work of historical fiction. Nothing in this story should be taken as true historical fact. On October 14, 1066 William, Duke of Normandy, and King Harold of England engaged in a nine-hour arduous battle. The Battle of Hastings, as it would soon become known, decided the fate of England, its monarchs, and its future. The Battle of Hastings was so much more than a simple battle, and King Harold and William were so much more than rivals.

The full moon hung heavy in the sky as Aamon, the werewolf, prowled the edges of the forest. His keen senses had led him to Amala's remote farmhouse, nestled two miles from the nearest town.

The dim cavern pulsed with a strange, rhythmic glow as the last of the women were dragged into the den, their whimpers swallowed by the slick walls that throbbed with unseen life. The air was thick with the creature’s musk—warm, cloying, and laced with something that made their skin prickle and their breath come faster.

She floated aimlessly, pain springing forward as blood seeped from the bullet wound at her side. It dyed the ocean water around her, along with the setting sun; this was going to be her last gaze of the living world. Her sight filled with that dreaded color of flesh and rage. So many emotions were running through her mind, though her face probably didn’t show it as she sank in the water. Emotionless and motionless, like a rock carelessly tossed into the green-blue sea. Her vision went black, almost as if she had fallen into a dreamless sleep.