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 ...
I cried because of you,
not from weakness,
But from loving you with my clean heart
In a world that taught you how to take
and leave.
You used what was pure,
then set it down like it meant nothing.
So I wept.
Not loudly.
Not for sympathy.
But because even the strongest hearts
must release their grief somewhere.
Remember this;
Some tears do not fall to the ground.
Some rise.
They go straight to the Lord,
carrying names, carrying the truth.
I may look foolish today,
standing in the wreckage of trust,
But time is a quiet judge.
God turns the tables without a warning.
What you handed me in shame
will return to you as a burden.
Tomorrow, I will flourish.
Not loudly
but fully.
And you will wear the foolishness
you once placed on me.
One day, you will dine on memory,
feasting on the tears
You never thought it would matter.
You will search for forgiveness,
reach for my name
and find only silence.
That is when you will know:
Karma has arrived,
not to wound,
But to remind you
that nothing taken unjustly
is ever forgotten.
© 2026 Gloria Penelope
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