Love was never a heartbeat. It was the echo left behind after the heart forgot why it was still beating. It arrived wearing another person's face, its hands stitched together from promises that had already begun to rot. I welcomed it. Not because it was kind, but because loneliness knows how to mistake a wolf for warmth. Every smile it offered cast a longer shadow. Every whispered "forever" fed another ghost sleeping beneath my ribs. The thought of love is a clever liar. It builds cathedrals from broken mirrors, then asks us to kneel before our own reflections, calling the illusion destiny. How eagerly we obey. We water flowers that grow from graves, write poems to people who never truly existed, and embrace memories still unborn. Love watches. Silent. Patient. Like a spider waiting in the center of a web woven from hope. It never forces us inside. It simply lets us believe the silver threads are rays of morning light. By the time we understand, the sky has forgotten our ...
Your heart lives in misery,
heavy with wishes you never stop carrying—
wishing you had what others call enough,
wishing blessings didn’t feel so far away.
At times, it feels like being a cursed person,
marked by fate before you learned how to speak.
But deep down, you know the truth:
No curse followed you into this world.
You were born into poverty,
into hands that were loving but empty,
into parents who had little
except the will to survive.
You fight to rise from where you began,
clawing toward a better life
with tired hope and shaking strength.
Some days, you feel lost and powerless,
like the ground refuses to hold you.
Some days, you want to run—
not away from life,
but toward peace.
Even family turns its back,
even friends disappear,
because you have nothing to offer
but honesty and struggle.
Life grows heavier, more unbearable,
a weight that presses on your chest.
You want to scream,
yet your voice dissolves into silence,
and every thought of poverty
fills your eyes with unfallen tears.
Remember this—
It is a storm, and storms do not stay.
Clouds may darken your days,
but they are always passing.
One day, your life will change,
and your smile will come without pain.
You will overcome every obstacle.
When it rains, it stops
to give the sun space to breathe.
Even when the sun hides
inside the darkest clouds,
those clouds never remain forever.
They move on.
And then—
The sun shines.
You will shine one day.
Like the sun,
You will shine.
© 2025 Gloria Penelope
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