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Get the APPEntre las sombras
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He Thought I Was A Doormat, Until I Ruined Him
The sterile white of the operating room blurred, then sharpened, as Skye Sterling felt the cold clawing its way up her body. The heart monitor flatlined, a steady, high-pitched whine announcing her end. Her uterus had been removed, a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding, but the blood wouldn't clot. It just kept flowing, warm and sticky, pooling beneath her. Through heavy eyes, she saw a trembling nurse holding a phone on speaker. "Mr. Kensington," the nurse's voice cracked, "your wife... she's critical." A pause, then a sweet, poisonous giggle. Seraphina Miller. "Liam is in the shower," Seraphina's voice purred. "Stop calling, Skye. It's pathetic. Faking a medical emergency on our anniversary? Even for you, that's low." Then, Liam's bored voice: "If she dies, call the funeral home. I have a meeting in the morning." Click. The line went dead. A second later, so did Skye. The darkness that followed was absolute, suffocating, a black ocean crushing her lungs. She screamed into the void, a silent, agonizing wail of regret for loving a man who saw her as a nuisance, for dying without ever truly living. Until she died, she didn't understand. Why was her life so tragically wasted? Why did her husband, the man she loved, abandon her so cruelly? The injustice of it all burned hotter than the fever in her body. Then, the air rushed back in. Skye gasped, her body convulsing violently on the mattress. Her eyes flew open, wide and terrified, staring blindly into the darkness. Her trembling hand reached for her phone. May 12th. Five years ago. She was back.No es la poesía tan sólo aquel rayo que ilumina la mente del que hace versos.
La poesía está en el mundo bajo diversas formas, y vive entre nosotros sin que nos apercibamos de su presencia.
La poesía en la mujer es hermana del sentimiento, es la blanca y perfumada flor que brota en el corazon: cuando el huracan del dolor ha agostado todas las demas flores del alma, la de la poesía desplega su corola más hermosa que nunca.
Las lágrimas son su rocío; la resignacion es el sol benéfico que la calienta con sus tibios resplandores.
La poesía es la compa?era inseparable de la mujer buena y la que embellece el hogar doméstico. ?Desgraciada la mujer que la desconoce, y desgraciado tambien el hombre que busca, para compa?era suya, una mujer prosaica y materialista! Si busca un alma fria, se encontrará con un alma dura; si busca un corazon destituido de ilusiones, será fácil que halle un corazon vacío y desgarrado.
Toda mujer que cuida de embellecer su casa y de hacer dichosa á su familia, tiene un alma poética.
Una madre meciendo á su hijo sobre sus rodillas, junto á un balcon entoldado de flores, está rodeada, á mis ojos, de una poesía tan bella como elocuente.
Una jóven sentada al lado de su anciano padre, leyendo con suave y dulce voz, para distraerle en las largas noches de invierno, ofrece un cuadro de tierna y sublime poesía.
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Un libro para las damas
Un libro para las damas by María del Pilar Sinués/0/53406/coverorgin.jpg?v=593bbdbd3452b9f58de6d8ddb7b744bf&imageMogr2/format/webp)
A gift from las vegas
Samantha Hurst, a showgirl from Las Vegas, did not expect that at twenty-five her life would be transformed when she met Theon Adamos at a bachelor party. Theon, from a large and noisy Greek family, could not have imagined that one phone call could completely alter the course of his life. A single f/0/7389/coverorgin.jpg?v=d079f02ab23112144e4b96a455840b80&imageMogr2/format/webp)
