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...
Once, love lived softly in this home,
now every wall remembers raised voices.
Peace packed its bags long ago,
leaving echoes of arguments in its place.
He comes and goes like changing weather,
storms in, vanishes, returns unannounced.
Each time he leaves, something breaks;
Each time he returns, nothing is repaired.
She waits with anger clenched in her chest,
a fire she cannot release,
words swallowed, tears uncounted,
smiles worn thin by exhaustion.
Being his wife feels heavier each day,
a title stitched with disappointment.
Her heart no longer dances at his name,
it only braces for the next wound.
She is tired of forgiving cycles,
tired of loving alone in a shared life.
Happiness no longer recognizes her,
and home no longer feels like shelter.
In silence, she begins to understand—
love should not hurt this loudly.
She left without saying a word to him.
© 2026 Gloria Penelope
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