Blackout
The Secret Room Where Our Love Still Breathes"
The Secret Room Where Our Love Still Breathes" There’s a room they say doesn’t exist— No window, no key, no name on the list. But I’ve walked its floor with trembling feet, Where shadows hum, and lost hearts meet.
By Ali Asad Ullah8 months ago in Poets
The Last Vote
Ethan Clarke’s hands trembled as he gripped the cold metal railing of his balcony. Below, the streets buzzed with the fading cheers from his election rally. At twenty-eight, he was the youngest provincial assembly member ever elected from his district — a victory that surprised even his closest supporters.
By Arshad khan8 months ago in Poets
When Life Blocks Your Words, Punch Back with Poetry
Have you ever felt like life just steals your creativity? That’s been me lately. Bills stacking up, endless work calls, family stuff, and somehow, my brain just… shuts down. The words I used to love pouring out now feel stuck, like they’re trapped behind an invisible wall.
By Shafi Ullah Darwesh8 months ago in Poets
No Face
I’m a man with no name No face My mind disconnected My heart lost in space A fantastic phantom animating atoms Thank you for reading my work. If you enjoyed this story, there’s more below. Please hit the like and subscribe button, you can follow me on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram @AtomicHistorian. To help me create more content, leave a tip or become a pledged subscriber. I also make stickers, t-shirts, etc here.
By Atomic Historian8 months ago in Poets
