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Regrets of my life

My first book is out- Dusk Veiled Desires: cunning devotion. [PAINFUL POEMS] VOLUME 1: Short poems. Amidst the roses in full bloom, Under the starry night's bright loom, A girl sits in the garden alone, Penning down her heart's sorrowful tone. The moonlight casts a dim hue, Reflecting on her hair's brown hue, As tears flow silently from her eyes, Longing for the one she loves but denies... ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ VOLUME 2: You and me (well you need to read to find out what's inside) {starts from chapter 53} "Well... I think this is our goodbye," she softly sighed, A bittersweet farewell, emotions amplified. "But I can't leave you," he pleaded with his heart, Their love entangled, yet forced to part. "My love, I'm not real," she whispered, eyes filled with pain, An ethereal presence, destined to wane. "You are to me," he vowed, his voice trembling, Their connection profound, their souls assembling. "You know that I will always be with you, But not physically, my love, this much is true," She spoke with tender sorrow in her tone, A love transcending bounds, their spirits known... ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ whatever I write here is totally based on my real life. (unrequited love) Hello there! Welcome to this book, which is not a novel or a story. In this book, I will share my poetry and inner thoughts, which I've been hiding for a long time. All of my writing is based on my life, and I kindly ask that you do not repost my work without giving me credit. Thank you I hope you enjoy reading my writing and find something that resonates with you. -zylyria YOU CAN READ ANY VOLUME FIRST. It just depends upon your preference.

zylks7 · Urban
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88 Chs

deep ache in my heart

As I painted a picture of you,

I felt like you were there with me,

in the brush strokes and the colors.

But as I stepped back to admire my work,

the truth hit me like a cold wave crashing against my soul.

You weren't really there.

You were just a memory, a figment of my imagination,

a phantom that haunted my dreams.

I tried to capture your essence on canvas,

to freeze you in time and space,

to hold onto something that had already slipped away.

But no matter how much I painted,

how much I poured my heart and soul onto the canvas,

you were still just a picture, an image,

a mere shadow of the real you.

And as I put down my brush,

I couldn't help but feel a sense of loss,

a deep ache in my heart,

for the person who wasn't really there.