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Love's Dark Reflection #lovepoetry #poetrydaily #poemaday

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 ...
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When Dust Chooses No Side #poem

Warthogs roam with sharpened hate,
Lions answer with burning pride.
When their paths cross in the open land,
peace has no place to hide.

Claws strike, teeth clash,
roars tear the waiting air.
The ground shakes beneath their rage,
as if the desert remembers old wars.

Dust rises thick like ancient anger,
clouding eyes, swallowing sound.
For a moment, even the sun steps back,
watching fury spill onto the ground.

They fight like stubborn human thugs,
ruled by ego, blind with power,
forgetting that strength fades fast
under time’s unforgiving hour.

In the end, the desert remains
silent, vast, unchanged.
Bodies fall, pride dissolves,
names erased, victories strange.

Warlogs, lions, men alike,
learn the truth too late to trust:
hatred shouts, battles roar,
But everything ends
in the desert’s dust.


© 2026 Gloria Penelope

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