The novel is about a contemporary married couple on bad bases. Including hatred. But the arrival of the third person will change the cost of their living not only into a nightmare but also make them discover love
People say, “When you are torn between two lovers, choose the second one. Because there won’t be a second person if you really loved the first one.”
But how would you know that you love the second one more than the first one? What if your mind was just clouded when you’re with the second one?
People say, “Trust is the most important ingredient in love.”
But would trust encompass distance? Would trust give you the insurance that one would not look away from you? Would trust give that certain assurance that one will always be yours?
A story of betrayal. Tears. And drama.
Her twin gets missing on her eighteenth birthday. The Fae court seems to be hiding something about her sister disappearance and her recluse father acts like he doesn't care. Left with no option, A powerless Fae journeys to find her sister. Discovering secrets and even secrets admirers on the way.
I discover that I'm a homewrecker after dating my boyfriend for a decade. We're looking at marital homes when his wife seeks me out.
She beats me up in public and rips my hair out, yet all he does is hurry to her after I've pushed her to the floor. Why? Because she's pregnant.
Later, he gets a divorce and begs me to marry him. "I'm begging you, Madison. Forgive me this once."
Mary can see beings from the other side where most people don't. Her ability causes her to have a hard time growing up. She always thought that it was a gift to see the paranormal entities around us. But it turns out to be a curse since she can't live a normal life.
Her only mistake is that she started talking to that spirit and even gave him a name. She called the ghost, Angel. The reason for that name is because he always keeps her safe. He always makes sure that there will be nobody who can hurt her. Until she saw his real face…
Then, she will meet another interesting man, Gregory, who happens to be a vampire. He will save her from the hands of the angel of death who is pretending to be her friend. Gregory has to save her from Angel because she will make a perfect wife for a lonely vampire.
Will Mary agree to the vampire's marriage proposal? Or will she choose to go back to the land of the living?
She was his wife on paper for three years, but his heart always belonged to his girlfriend.
They were in love for 15+ years..
Childhood sweethearts, then lovers.
Each other's firsts. Each other's forever.
Kiyara was the only love of his life.
But one cruel incident.
Forced him to marry someone else.
Shattering three heart into pieces.
****
This is there story.
The people who loved.
And paid the price for it.
𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑶𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑾𝑶𝑴𝑨𝑵
A story no one dares to tell.
Story of three people.
Kiyara
Raghav
Natasha
Listening to classic poetry is like sipping a fine wine—it has so many layers to enjoy! One of my all-time favorites has to be 'The Road Not Taken' by Robert Frost. The way he captures the essence of choices in life resonates deeply with me. The rhyme scheme is simple yet effective, and it makes the imagery of his journey feel real. Another gem is 'A Dream Within a Dream' by Edgar Allan Poe. His haunting rhythm pulls you in, and the philosophical questions about reality really make you ponder existence itself.
Then there’s the ever-charming ‘Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening’, also by Frost. That feeling of peaceful solitude in the woods really strikes a chord, especially in today’s fast-paced world. It’s hard not to feel reflective and inspired when you read it.
To think of classic rhymes, we can't skip over Emily Dickinson’s works. Although many are short, they're packed with depth and emotion, and her striking use of slant rhyme makes each piece uniquely beautiful.
Broken and Reset: Selected Poems' dives deep into the raw, unfiltered emotions of human existence. The collection grapples with themes of suffering and renewal, often juxtaposing the fragility of the human spirit with its incredible resilience. One poem might depict the shattering of identity after loss, while another slowly pieces together hope from the fragments. The imagery of broken glass, mended pottery, and regrowth after fire weaves through the work, creating a visceral sense of destruction and healing.
What struck me most was how the poet frames personal breakdowns as necessary transformations. There's this recurring motif of voluntary surrender—like breaking down walls to rebuild them stronger. Some sections read almost like alchemical texts, where emotional pain becomes the crucible for change. The later poems shift toward quieter realizations, suggesting that recovery isn't about returning to wholeness but finding beauty in the cracks.
Forty-Five: Poems' by Seamus Heaney feels like a quiet conversation with history, memory, and loss. The collection was written after his father's death, and the number 45 refers to the age he was when his father passed. There's this raw intimacy in how Heaney stitches together grief with everyday moments—like digging potatoes or recalling childhood stories. The poems don't just mourn; they resurrect. The imagery of soil, tools, and hands becomes a metaphor for how we unearth and hold onto the past.
What strikes me most is the balance between personal pain and universal resonance. Heaney never shouts his grief; it's in the pauses, the half-said things. The collection isn't about grand gestures but the weight of small, accumulated absences. I always finish it feeling like I've walked through someone else's memories, yet somehow recognized my own.
Contemporary poetry is a diverse and vibrant scene, filled with voices that explore various styles, including traditional forms like rhyming poetry. You’ve got poets like Jennifer McGaha who masterfully employs rhyme and meter in her work, creating a musicality that draws readers in. It’s fascinating how they manage to balance modern themes with classic structures.
For instance, I’ve stumbled upon poets on social media platforms like Instagram, where their brief but poignant rhymes really resonate. They often tackle heavy subjects like mental health or identity, weaving their messages into catchy stanzas that linger long after you’ve read them. There’s something magical about how rhyme can enhance emotional weight; it transforms feelings into melodies.
And let’s not forget about slam poetry! Performers often use rhyme to create rhythm and impact in their spoken word pieces. It feels like a revival of rhyme in a fresh format, breathing new life into a centuries-old tradition. All in all, if you dig into modern poetry, you’ll definitely find some gems that sing through their verses, and that’s something I truly cherish.
Reading poetry online for free can be a bit of a treasure hunt, especially for lesser-known works like 'Scattered Poems.' I’ve spent hours digging through digital archives and stumbled across a few gems. Sites like Project Gutenberg and Open Library sometimes have older poetry collections, though 'Scattered Poems' might be trickier to find since it’s not as mainstream.
Another route is checking out academic repositories or university libraries that offer free access to their digital collections. I once found a rare chapbook in a university archive that wasn’t available anywhere else. If you’re okay with snippets, Google Books or Internet Archive might have previews or scans. Just don’t expect a full copy—unless someone’s uploaded it unofficially, which isn’t ideal but happens. Honestly, half the fun is the search itself, like uncovering buried literary artifacts.
Reading 'Out of the Dust' feels like sifting through layers of history and memory—dust isn’t just dirt here; it’s a metaphor for resilience and impermanence. The Oklahoma Dust Bowl era was brutal, and Karen Hesse’s poems capture how dust became life itself—how it choked crops but also carried stories of survival. It’s in the cracks of floors, the grit in food, the haze between hope and despair. What sticks with me is how dust transforms: it’s destruction, but also the raw material for rebuilding. The imagery makes you feel the weight of it, like a phantom limb of the land.
Hesse’s choice isn’t just historical accuracy; dust symbolizes how people endure what’s unshakable. My favorite poem, 'Debts,' ties dust to debt—both inescapable, both defining lives. It’s genius how something so small becomes this vast force, like the way grief lingers in a room long after the event. Makes you wonder what 'dust' we’re carrying today, invisible but shaping us all the same.
Man, finding 'Poems For Rebels' online can feel like hunting for hidden treasure! I stumbled across it a while back on a site called Project Gutenberg—they’ve got a ton of public domain works, and sometimes niche poetry collections slip in there. It’s worth combing through their catalog or using their search bar. Another spot I’ve dug around in is the Internet Archive; they’ve got this wild digital library where people upload all sorts of obscure texts. If the collection’s old enough to be out of copyright, there’s a chance it’s floating around there. Just typing the title into their search might yield gold.
If those don’ pan out, I’d hit up forums like Reddit’s r/FreeEBOOKS or even poetry-focused subreddits. Sometimes folks share Dropbox links or Google Drive folders with rare finds. And hey, don’t overlook LibriVox if you’re cool with audiobooks—volunteers record public domain stuff, and hearing rebellious poetry read aloud adds a whole new layer of fire to it. Fair warning, though: if it’s a newer anthology, free copies might be sketchy. Always double-check if it’s legal to avoid supporting sketchy pirate sites.
Street Music: City Poems' is this vibrant, pulsating collection that feels like walking through a bustling metropolis with all your senses wide open. The poems capture the raw energy of urban life—the honking cars, the chatter of strangers, the rhythmic footsteps on pavement. Some pieces read like snapshots of fleeting moments: a street musician’s guitar riff echoing down an alley, the way sunlight filters through skyscrapers at golden hour. Others dig deeper into the loneliness that can creep in even in a crowd, like the poem about a homeless man humming to himself under a flickering streetlamp.
What I love most is how the language itself feels musical. The lines twist and swing, mimicking the unpredictability of city life. There’s a recurring theme of connection—how people orbit each other without touching, yet somehow share this unspoken symphony. The closing poem, with its image of rain washing graffiti off a subway wall, left me weirdly hopeful about impermanence and renewal.
Kalidasa's poetry feels like stepping into a lush, dreamlike garden where every word blossoms with meaning. 'The Complete Works of Kalidasa, Vol. 1: Poems' isn't just a relic of classical Sanskrit literature—it's a living conversation about love, nature, and human longing. I recently revisited 'Meghaduta' (The Cloud Messenger), and the way Kalidasa paints emotions through landscapes still gives me chills. The yearning of the exiled lover, whispered to a passing cloud, feels timeless.
Modern readers might need patience with the intricate metaphors, but the payoff is immense. Translations vary, so I recommend editions with annotations (like those by Chandra Rajan). Some passages demand slow reading, almost like savoring a rich dessert. If you enjoy Rumi or Tagore, Kalidasa's blend of spirituality and sensuality will resonate. My copy has coffee stains from all the times I got lost in his verses during lazy afternoons.
There's this eerie yet fascinating collection called 'A Quaint and Curious Volume: Tales and Poems of the Gothic' that I stumbled upon last winter. It's a treasure trove of gothic literature, blending short stories and poetry that drip with dark romance, supernatural elements, and that signature gothic gloom. Think crumbling castles, tormented souls, and whispers from beyond the grave. The anthology includes works from heavyweights like Edgar Allan Poe—his 'The Tell-Tale Heart' is in there, and it still gives me chills—alongside lesser-known but equally haunting pieces. The way the editor curated it feels like wandering through a candlelit library where every shelf holds a new shadowy secret.
What I love most is how the book captures the gothic spirit across different eras. Some pieces are classic 19th-century fare, all stormy moors and doomed love, while others twist the genre into something more modern but just as unsettling. There’s a poem about a ghostly lover that lingers in your mind like fog, and a story about a cursed painting that made me side-eye my own wall art for days. It’s not just about scares, though; the melancholy beauty in these pages is what keeps me coming back. I’ve loaned my copy to three friends already, and all of them returned it wide-eyed, saying they couldn’t sleep with the lights off afterward—mission accomplished, I’d say!