There is a place inside you No map has ever traced, a quiet room behind the ribs where light forgets to stay. No one sees it when you smile, No one hears it when you speak. It moves beneath your laughter like a river running deep. It is yours alone to carry, not carved for other hands, a language made of silence Only your soul understands. Some mornings it is heavier, a stone you cannot name, And still you rise and wear your life as if it were the same. But pain, it does not leave you when ignored or pushed away, it waits within the folds of time, it learns you day by day. It is not your enemy, though it cuts without a sound; it is the truth you buried but still lives underground. And yes, there are nights it breaks you, when endurance feels too wide, when even breath feels borrowed And there is nowhere left to hide. Yet somehow you continue, not because you do not fall, but because within the breaking You still answer life’s call. You learn to walk beside it, not beneath it, not above...
A rose awakened in gentle light,
Petals soft as a whispered vow.
It carried hope in shades of red,
A promise made to now.
No thorn was sharpened by old pain,
No leaf remembered rain.
It bloomed for hands not yet entwined,
For joy untouched by yesterday’s stain.
Its fragrance spoke of first-time smiles,
Of laughter finding air.
Of hearts that meet without defense,
Unafraid to care.
This rose was born for new beginnings,
For love, still learning how to stay.
For happiness that grows in trust,
Not rushed, but finds its way.
It bends toward warmth, not memory,
Toward mornings yet to be known.
A simple truth in velvet form:
Love blooms best when freshly sown.
So place this rose where hope resides,
Where joy has room to breathe.
It is not rooted in the past—
It blooms for what will be. 🌹
© 2025 Gloria Penelope
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