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...
We gather again beneath December lights,
Same chairs, same room, same practiced cheer,
Laughter rehearsed like an old carol
That everyone knows, but no one feels.
Hugs are exchanged like obligations,
Warm on the outside, cold within,
Eyes smile first, then mouths follow,
While hearts stay carefully hidden.
The table is full, yet something starves—
Truth waits outside with the night air,
Jealousy sits quietly between plates,
Hatred dressed up as polite care.
Compliments sharpened with quiet comparison,
Success weighed, failure displayed,
Every story told to outshine another,
Every silence is carefully staged.
We call it family, we call it tradition,
Year after year, we return the same,
Dragging old wounds through tinsel and candles,
Renaming resentment as holiday flame.
By midnight, masks grow heavy on faces,
The smiles crack but never fall,
We promise love, we promise visits,
Then leave with nothing settled at all.
And so it repeats—another December,
Another gathering, another disguise,
Until Christmas comes knocking again,
And we meet once more
With the same fake smiles
And the same quiet lies.
© 2025 Gloria Penelope
Comments