I wrote a happy ending for both of us
Picturing us sitting silently in a house together
You stood next to me
And we shared a moment of peace
It was the end of our story
But it felt like the beginning of another life
We were alone
Just the two of us
As we looked at each other
We remained silent
But it was a comfortable silence
This was another happy ending in another life
And we deserved it
Even though our story was over
It will always stay with me
Because it's the only way I can bear it
About the Creator
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More stories from Eren Ahmed and writers in Poets and other communities.
Enduring Love
Their hearts beat with an anticipation that grows stronger with each passing moment. They yearn for the day when they will be reunited when they can finally be swept away in the rapture of their love and forget the troubles that beset them. They know that fate has been unkind, keeping them apart despite their unyielding affection, but they hold onto the hope that one day they will be together again. They dream of a future where their love is no longer a thing of beauty, but a reality that they can live and breathe. They imagine a life where they can lose themselves in each other's embrace and create new memories that will be treasured with all their hearts. Their love is a force that cannot be broken, a flame that burns brighter than ever before. It is a love that will endure through the ages, a love that is pure, true, and everlasting. They pray for a day when they can be together, free from harm, when they can finally live their lives as one. And though they cannot be together now, they take comfort in the knowledge that their love transcends all borders. They know that their paths will diverge for a while longer, but they hold onto the hope that they will be reunited soon. Their hearts beat as one, and they know that their love will lead them to a future that is filled with happiness, joy, and endless possibilities.
By Eren Ahmedabout a month ago in Poets
Obsidian Is Alive
I live in a realm of darkness and curiosity, where the very ground conceals secrets and riddles, the answers to which are well beyond my reach. The cavern beneath Mount Etna is a maze of contorted rock and hidden riches, where daylight never shines, and the shadows of torches and the ghostly phosphorescence of cinnabar are the only illumination sources. I am fascinated by the cavern's beauty: the stalagmites, vast columns of rock that ascend from the ground like titans and are studded with gleaming adornments and stones, capturing sunlight and creating a treasure-trove of wealth and fascination. One stalagmite, however, stands out: a gigantic monolith of completely unreflective obsidian that glows blackly, swallowing light and color. I am drawn to it by a magnetic-like force; though Clement tells me it will boil to the touch, I am not frightened. Indeed, when I put my palm upon it, I am startled by the device's warmth; it is red-hot, pulsating with unseen living energy. Clement explains it is a conductor, a turning device that draws and converts all force it contacts.
By Owen Belen4 days ago in Poets
Spellbound (1945)
As part of my ongoing ambition to be a 1940s screenwriter, I have re-watched Hitchcock’s Spellbound. Of course, he is the master of suspense. During the 1940s and 1950s Hitchcock used his years of experience in the film industry to direct some of the most thrilling and frightening films of the era. They are full of heightened emotions, conflict and twisted plot-lines.
By Rachel Robbins4 days ago in Geeks
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