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 ...
Indeed, life is a mystery untold,
I was once a happy soul,
Walking freely in a dream-made world,
My laughter light, my heart made whole.
Then came a tornado dressed in calm,
With velvet words and gentle tone,
Preaching love like a church-bound psalm,
Quoting verses not his own.
He spoke in faith, he spoke in fire,
As pastors do before the choir,
Each promise lifted me up higher,
Each vow wrapped sweetly around desire.
I believed the prayers he learned to say,
Mistook his voice for something true,
Until his tongue tore faith away
And left my heart in shattered view.
What a devil incarnate walking in this land,
Wearing grace like a borrowed skin,
Breaking souls with a lover’s song,
Calling a betrayal “love” and calling a sin “amen.”
Now I stand where ruins lie,
Wiser beneath a broken sky
For storms that preach and angels lie
Are the cruelest truths life lets pass by_
© 2026 Gloria Penelope
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