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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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Where Hustle is the Motto #poem

Life moves fast between tall buildings,
where mornings don’t wait for tired souls.
The sun rises over concrete dreams,
and people wake already running late.

Faces pass without names or stories,
each mind locked inside its own survival.
Everyone carries a private battle,
hidden behind quick steps and steady eyes.

Cars flood the streets like endless rivers,
horns shouting louder than human voices.
Red lights blink, engines roar,
time itself feels chased and breathless.

On the sidewalks, beggars take their places,
day after day, on the same corners,
working hope into open hands,
learning patience from the dust and noise.

Hustling is not a trend here.
It is the city’s daily language.
Employed or not, everyone grinds
suits, uniforms, and worn-out shoes alike.

Dreams are chased between shifts and traffic,
sleep is borrowed, rest is rare.
Life is hard in the city’s heart,
where there’s no time to pause or interfere.

No space to carry another’s burden,
no room for slow emotions.
Here, survival sets the rhythm,
and hustling remains the motto
that keeps the city alive.


© 2026 Gloria Penelope

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