User:Mr.True Heart.SL

Under the Painted Sky

Once upon a time, in a cozy seaside town, there was a boy named Iyan. He loved spending his evenings watching the sunset from the cliffs. One day, as he admired the sky turning shades of pink and orange, he noticed a girl nearby. Her name was Lily, and she was painting the sunset with her colorful brushes.

Curious, Iyan approached her and struck up a conversation. They talked about their love for nature and the beauty of the ocean. As they watched the sun disappear into the horizon together, Iyan felt a warm feeling growing inside him. He realized he enjoyed Lily's company and hoped to spend more time with her. As they said goodbye for the evening, Iyan couldn't help but feel excited about the new friendship blooming between them. Little did he know, their meeting was the start of something beautiful, under the painted sky.

The next day, Iyan started his day joyfully a new change rises in him. He waited for the evening in eager, but this time the sun and time played with him. He feels every minutes as hours this day, Finally the sun showed mercy on Iyan, The evening came , he felt the sunset as a sunrise in this moment. He walked to the same cliff. He saw backside of lily. He gently says her name, lily looked back. Her wavy hair blocked the sea waves,

A gentle breeze calmed his heart, Her nose is a clear mountain, her eye brows showed the darkest color he ever seen, Her eyes showed a new realm, Her lip was a smooth cliff, After he saw her, He totally understand, Why god gave eyes to his life.

Lily asked Iyan to sit with her. Iyan also accepted her lovely invitation. They talked until the sun set. They improved the conversation with little touchings. The sensual evening embraced in their feelings. The conversation continues, Until the moon rises. They noticed the dark and walked back to their homes together. Iyan dropped lily on the way on her home. He also walked back to the home thinking about the nice conversation had with lily. He notices that that's not just friendship, its higher than that.

Poems

Conflict

Ashes of our literature

In midnight's quiet - hundreds

of screams are heard,

Not from humans but,

From thousands of words.

Blazes of fire curled,

The pages of desire,

The long road passes ,

The song of destruction,

Many words vanished for,

vicious racists. Only ashes - remained

Is this there glory?,

is this there weapon?.

Mr.True Heart.SL (discuss • contribs) 15:57, 2 March 2024 (UTC)